1 Thread of karma between old and young

The old man had small eyes surrounded by thin smiling lines, yet he seemed a bit spiritless as if life and old age were getting the better of him. As he bent down, the clothes he wore seemed to fall apart, clothes that were ragged and threadbare, as if he was giving in to the passage of time, unconcerned about his appearance. From his large bindle stick, he unravelled its dirty yellow rags with fingers that were wrinkled but delicate like the fingers of a scholar or alchemist. You wouldn't think that the yellow boogers on the rag came from them.

As he watched his rice tin boil, he started to hum.

"Waltzing mouse, waltzing mouse…'

"You'll come a waltzing mouse with me."

He continued to hum, while the fire on his finger morphed into that of a mouse. The scruffy mouse squeaked in glee and hopped before him, its red embers crackling in the silence.

The cave's air was thick with humidity and difficult to breathe; the darkness was so dreary that it was impossible to see more than a few metres in front of you. Occasionally, the muffled whoosh of wind in trees outside shrieked in through the hollows and gaps of the cave like spirits haunting a graveyard. It was quite easy for one to slip on a patch of wet rock.

The moment the fiery mouse appeared, it came as a golden ball, igniting the cave, shimmering with fierce yellow and burnt orange as its flames licked the air into an acrid smell of gas.

"Hm? What is this rat doing here?" said the old man.

The fiery mouse scratched its head.

"No, not you. I mean you."

The fiery mouse bobbed its head.

"No, I said not you, you idiot," the old man shouted, "I mean there seems to be a baby over there." He pointed his stubby finger at one of the openings of the cave. There was a small black head resting on the floor.

The fiery mouse hopped to the baby. Suddenly, it squeaked. A strange aura was emanating from the baby's body.

The old man walked over and said, "Such a precious child. Poor thing. I'm afraid that its life will only be covered in darkness."

His small eyes softened as he slowly cradled the baby. It weighed barely anything. The baby did not cry nor babble, though its precious face wore a silent expression. Two large beady eyes stared up.

"Ah, it's quite pitiful, isn't it," the old man said to the fiery mouse.

It was quiet out there and the old man felt a chill as the looming darkness of the night sky brought forth a cold gust of wind. He felt the baby's heart beat weakly, and the cave itself confounded it with the beat of a drum, piercing through the deep silence all around. The old man bent down and grabbed his bindle's yellow rag, wrapping it around the baby for warmth so that the small head popped between the arms of the knot.

"You can have this one," the old man said to the baby, "It's pretty good, but I have others."

Squeak!

"Nonsense! It's perfectly clean. What? I'm not scamming the baby, okay? You're just saying immoral things again!" shouted the old man. But his words didn't match his actions, as he was trying to peel off the boogers that seemed to stitch the rag together.

Squeak!

"What a joke, I am imbued with righteousness from head to toe. What I'm doing is already enough," the old man said shamelessly to the mouse.

The mouse sniffled.

The old man shook his head, and responded, "Take him with me? The boy would never be able to clean himself from the karma of my help. Especially when the thread is weaned so early in its life by someone amazing like me."

The karma of the world wouldn't be so forgiving to either of them.

Karma and destiny were illusory and intangible Concepts, but they truly did exist. To be touched by karma was to be part of the grand system of cause and effect in the world, it was the driving force of reality. In the world, no one could divorce themselves from their karma, but those who cultivated must at least have their hearts clear of distractions. This was because karmic luck also influenced the hands of fate, allowing for opportunities and greater fortune while travelling out in the world as well.

After a bit of hesitation, the old man said, "Fine, the best I can do is take the baby to a family in a city to let them take care of it, okay?"

Then with the fiery mouse on his left shoulder, and a yellow bindle on his right shoulder, he walked out of the cave. There was a soft murmur of thunder as the cave watched the horizon from its dark corner. This corner of the world was insignificant and small in the grand scheme of things. It was merely a speck of dust in the Lonely Mountains, let alone the cruel world.

The old man looked back, and nodded, memorising this cave in his mind, before leaving. As he moved, he looked at the baby in the bindle and sighed. The baby didn't cry, it didn't have tears left in it, all were drained away…

***

The sight was one of brightness, and as if straining at the light of what lay without, their pupils tightened inwards.

The night sky was ablaze with light. At one end the trio of the old man, the baby, and the fiery mouse, saw a cluster of stars, luminous bodies twinkling like eyes, spreading their light across the horizon. Like hands reaching out, shooting stars left their bright trails, threading across the sky in scintillations.

The old man's feet rolled gently over the earth, beneath the endless skies. The stars seemed to orbit around their bodies and streamed thick trains of silver behind them, which like a sword cut inwards.

It was bright now in the middle of the Lonely Mountains, even though it was still night. It had been a few hours since they left the cave.

The old man's eyes flickered as he turned to the baby on his shoulder who could not tear its gaze from the sky.

"This child… it won't bend down before the stars. This courageous attitude. It's quite like this young master himself," the old man said, admiringly. On the other shoulder, the fiery mouse rolled its eyes at his shamelessness.

No matter who you were, who wouldn't feel agitated under the scrutiny of the countless stars? What lay beyond that bright behemoth, that nebula of green dancing across the starry backlight, embracing the stars before it in a melange of colour.

"I cannot see its Dao Seed, though," he said, "I don't know if it's a curse or gift for it to still be alive."

Squeak!

The old man said, "It's impossible to remove someone's Dao Seed or be born without one. It's simply impossible. But this can only mean one thing. This child's life will culminate in nothing, to become the lowest of scum, the bottom of the social hierarchy in the cultivation world, living in the sewers and forever suppressed by the will of the heavens."

Even the mouse seemed to sigh.

"Or, it can also mean something else."

The mouse's red ears perked up.

"The scale of action and inaction is balanced by the boy's potential to find a way. His existence itself is transgressive after all," the old man said. "As for what he will find, I hope he finds his light."

He became silent.

For a moment, the blank silence dripped with nostalgia, screaming louder than the bright trails of stars above. Forgetting every word of insolence, anger, or frustration he knew. A tongue of fear, fabricated respect and ontological uncertainty only felt by him. The fiery mouse sensed his helplessness and rubbed its warm head against his beard in consolation. The frying smell of singed hairs wafted in the air.

Then the old man spoke, "No one is truly able to rebel against the heavens. We should know better. Death… death was inevitable." His lonely figure seemed to age a hundred years.

"The karmic heavens… or was it fate that brought this child to me? Then, perhaps, I shall keep this baby, but not spoil it too much. A fish can never become a dragon if its pond is too small."

"Your name shall be called Di Xing. A child born from the earth. A child that yearns for the stars," he said to the baby with a doting expression.

The fiery mouse squeaked happily.

"Here, take some of my spiritual energy, my child."

He flicked his finger, from which thick streams of bright rainbow-coloured energy flowed from the fiery rat into the baby. If any cultivator saw this, their jaws would drop to the floor not just at the density of the spiritual energy, but also the colour. Otherwise, they simply would think that there was something wrong with it.

After a while, he continued walking in the direction of Maplewood City, not noticing that behind his back, the baby's eyes suddenly changed afterwards.

The sight was one of total blackness, and as if straining at seeing what lay in that void, the iris that still glimmered faintly with starlight wrenched open the black hole at its monstrous heart, devouring.