1 Yin and Yang
In the vast celestial expanse, near the realms unknown even to ancient sages, lies a profound abyss—a black vortex of immeasurable depth. Its enormity surpasses the grandest mountains and oceans of the mortal realm. To stand in its shadow is to comprehend the true vastness of the heavens, to be reminded of the eternal cycle of life and death. A cultivator, even one who has attained great insight into the Dao, would feel a surge of humility. For in the presence of such unfathomable depth, even the most enlightened feel but a fleeting breeze in the eternal winds of time. The magnitude and infinite void of this abyss would make even those on the verge of ascending to immortality question their path, feeling dwarfed and transient.
Yet, for all its grandeur and the mystic energy it exudes, this cosmic vortex behaves unlike any other known to the ancient texts. Instead of drawing in the myriad celestial energies and essences surrounding it, it remains eerily passive, as if practicing a unique form of celestial cultivation. Indeed, it doesn't seem to draw upon the cosmic qi as one would expect, not even the faintest whispers of a low-level vortex. This peculiar restraint baffles even those sages who've traversed the nine heavens. The expected dance of stars and spiritual beasts, spiraling into the abyss, is absent here. This departure from ancient wisdom and tales, makes one wonder. What secrets does this vortex hold?
Drawing closer to its boundary, where even the strongest qi gets devoured, a mystifying sight comes into view. Amidst the swirling void, there's a vague silhouette, an apparition that seems to defy the very essence of this realm. Its presence is an enigma, for here, even the most radiant celestial energy should be ensnared, unable to radiate outwards. Yet, this mysterious entity, against the laws of heaven and earth, seems to emit a faint glow, challenging the vortex's dominance. Only by venturing closer, risking one's very essence, would the truth of this phenomenon be unraveled.
If, by some profound mastery over cultivation, a seeker were to approach this unique vortex without being consumed, a revelation awaits. There, amidst the swirling energies, sits an old hermit. His posture speaks of deep meditation, legs crossed and hands held in an ancient mudra. His long, white hair flows around him like a waterfall of moonlight, untouched by the chaos. His skin, etched with the tales of millennia, speaks of knowledge and experiences beyond mortal comprehension. How does such a being, seemingly from ancient legends, exist here, at the heart of the abyss? The heavens remain, as always, an enigma—a testament to the endless path of cultivation and the mysteries it holds.
Such a state, the old hermit's meditative stillness amidst the abyss, would remind any observer of the profound tranquility of death. To be amidst the consuming force of the vortex and yet remain untouched is a juxtaposition that baffles even the most enlightened. It is peculiar how he manages to not be consumed by the very energies that have obliterated celestial beings and torn astral spirits asunder. This complete oddity, the hermit in serene meditation and the voracious abyss, seem almost poetic in their coexistence—a matching pair, each defying the expectations set by the universe, standing together in an eternal dance of resistance and acceptance.
However, even in this place that seems far removed from the realms of mortals and deities, change is the only constant. Unknown to most of life everywhere, from the smallest mortal creatures to the grand celestial dragons, a disturbance in reality began to ripple outwards. This was not merely a disruption of qi or a shift in celestial energy; it was an anomaly that seemed to pierce the very fabric of existence. As it seeped towards the duo—the old hermit and the abyss—it left a reverb through all existence, a pulse that resonated from the heart of the universe to its farthest reaches.
The disturbance, as powerful and profound as it was, seemed to stir something within the old hermit. As it made its way to him, caressing the very boundaries of his being, there was a subtle shift. As if awakened from an eon-long slumber, his eyes crept open, their age-old lids parting like the opening of ancient scrolls. With a clarity that belied the passage of time, he gazed unwaveringly in the direction of the source, as though he had been awaiting this very moment for countless cycles of the heavens.
Glimpsing into those ageless eyes was like gazing into the very heart of the universe. With his pupils now visible, one could see a mesmerizing display: stars, in their multitudes, rotating gracefully around his iris. This cosmic dance, taking place within the confines of his gaze, was a sight to behold. It made one question: was this celestial ballet a testament to his grasp on reality, a reflection of his profound mastery over the Dao? Or perhaps, even more profoundly, it was his very presence, his essence, that allowed the stars themselves to exist, their existence intertwined with his in a bond as old as time itself.
The hermit's lips, which had for eons been set in a tranquil, ageless expression, now curled into a gentle smile. "So you finally made your way back, my friend," he murmured, his voice echoing with the timbre of countless lifetimes. Though he stared off into the distance, it was as if the vast expanse of space and time folded in upon itself before him, making 'distance' an inconsequential concept. In his gaze, galaxies merged, nebulae shimmered, and stars danced; all of existence was but a mere step away.
"It has been too long," he continued, a hint of nostalgia coloring his tone. "The reincarnation cycle truly is rough on those who contain greatness." The sigh that followed was not merely an expression of breath but a profound exhalation that resonated with the force of creation itself. As he sighed, the vibrations rippled through space, causing celestial bodies to shimmer and waver. Entire star systems, in response to this deep, cosmic lament, shivered as if touched by the hands of destiny.
"Unfortunately," the hermit's voice grew more solemn, carrying an urgency rarely heard in the vast corridors of space, "I do not have the time remaining to allow you to rise back to glory slowly." With these words, his mouth, that portal of wisdom and insight, began to draw in the boundless qi from the surrounding stars. It was a breathtaking sight. Spirals of energy, radiant and pure, flowed towards him, invigorating him, filling the voids of his long-neglected vessel. This act, which might have seemed like theft to an onlooker, was more akin to a cosmic reunion— the energies returning to a master who once commanded them. With every intake, life surged back into his once withered form, like water replenishing a parched land.
As moments passed, a transformation, both profound and magnificent, unfolded. The once dull and lifeless strands of his hair began to shimmer, cascading down like a waterfall of molten silver, regaining its ancient luster. Muscles, which had atrophied from millennia of meditation, swelled and defined themselves, showcasing a physique in its prime. Most strikingly, his skin, once marked with the wrinkles of time, smoothed out, becoming as soft and supple as that of a newborn. Anyone who witnessed this transformation would be astounded; the frail elderly figure that once sat meditating amidst the cosmos was no more. In his place stood a man in his middle years, exuding a vitality and presence that seemed to defy the very laws of existence—a complete and wondrous transformation.
His hands, newly rejuvenated and filled with vitality, began to move in a series of intricate patterns. With deliberate care, he molded them into ancient hand signs, symbols of power known to very few. Initially, each sign was distinct, each movement clearly visible. But as moments passed, the pace began to increase, his hands blurring into a dance of both grace and power. It was a mesmerizing sight, where each hand sign seemed to coexist, merging with the others, creating an intricate tapestry of motion. As his hands danced, the energy he had just absorbed began to emanate from him, a radiant display of power that pulsated outwards, touching the very corners of the universe.
With the crescendo of this cosmic ballet nearing, his hands paused momentarily, forming a final, powerful hand sign. Then, with a focused push forward, an immense surge of energy was released. This was no ordinary force; it was a power born from millennia of cultivation and understanding. The very fabric of space seemed to warp and ripple, bending under the weight of this unparalleled might. Its speed was incomprehensible, outstripping even the swiftest celestial bodies, as it bolted with a singular purpose, racing unerringly towards its intended target.
As the remnants of his energy dissipated into the cosmos, he slowly turned his gaze back to the vortex that had been his silent companion for so long. There was a new intensity in his eyes, a fire that hadn't been there before. It was a look of profound resentment and anger, emotions so deep and complex that perhaps only he could truly fathom their depths. This silent behemoth, the vortex, had been an ever-present entity in his life, and the emotions it stirred within him were beyond mere words.
"It seems my time as your caretaker could be over soon," he began, his voice laced with a mixture of weariness and annoyance, "you annoying piece o..." But before he could finish his statement, a sudden cough erupted from his lips. The force behind the energy he had just unleashed seemed to have taken a toll on him. Slowly, the vibrant energy that had rejuvenated him began to recede. His once-lustrous hair dulled, the strength in his muscles waned, and his skin began to show the signs of age once more. The transformation that had reversed the sands of time was, it seemed, only temporary. He was, after all, still bound to the cosmic dance of life, decay, and rebirth.
Turning slowly towards the unseen presence he had earlier addressed as his friend, a genuine vulnerability marked his features. The weight of countless eons, the burden of maintaining balance against the relentless pull of the vortex, was evident in his weary eyes. With a voice tinged with both hope and despair, he whispered, "I only hope you can make it in time... I don't think I can hold out much longer." In that fleeting moment, the boundless universe felt the profound weight of his plea, a plea for aid, for salvation, for an end to a timeless vigil.
His eyelids, having once opened to briefly challenge the cosmos, began to close once more. It was as if the energy he had briefly harnessed, the surge of life that had returned him to youth and power, was ebbing away, taking with it the strength he had momentarily felt. Slowly, with a grace borne from a life beyond comprehension, his body resumed its previous state. The once strong and vibrant figure started to crumple, like a parchment aged by time. Settling back into his ancient, meditative posture, the elderly hermit resumed what seemed to be an eternal slumber amidst the stars, as if sealing a silent pact with the cosmos to maintain the delicate balance for as long as he could.
Yet, even in his state of rest, changes began to manifest in their celestial dance. The vortex, that unfathomable abyss which had been his silent companion and perhaps adversary, showed signs of increasing hunger. Its pull, which had been kept at bay by the hermit's presence, started to grow stronger. The pace at which it consumed the surrounding celestial matter began to accelerate. Stars, once distant and safe, felt the growing tug of the abyss, hinting at a shift in the balance of power, a hint that the universe was once again on the cusp of profound change.
...
The incredible burst of energy unleashed by the old hermit didn't just traverse space; it transcended time, a wave pulsing through the very fabric of existence. As it raced, there were those attuned to the mysteries of the cosmos who felt its passage. Prophets, seers, and fortune-tellers across countless galaxies, in the midst of their divinations, jumped in startled realization. Their usually calm, introspective gazes now carried a hint of trepidation, as though seeing a storm on the horizon that no one else could yet perceive. Whispers echoed across realms and dimensions, carried by the winds of fate, suggesting that a major storm, one of cosmic significance, was indeed on the way.
This monumental force was not to be hindered. It swept through nebulas, galaxies, and black holes with an ease that defied comprehension. Its journey, vast and unyielding, aimed towards the most distant reaches of the universe. Celestial entities and astral spirits could only watch in silent awe as it raced by, a testament to the power and desperation behind its release. The universe, in its infinite expanse, seemed to shrink before this wave, guiding it towards its intended destination: the very opposite end of this vast expanse.
As the wave of energy neared its end, a singular blue planet came into focus. Orbiting a radiant yellow star, this celestial body, seemingly unremarkable in the grand tapestry of the cosmos, became the epicenter of this cosmic event. The energy, vast and overwhelming, began to slow as it neared the planet's atmosphere. It descended with a majesty and grandeur, reminiscent of ancient tales where gods would come down to mortal realms. The once-intangible force began to condense, taking on a tangible form, demanding the universe to bear witness to its glory. Its vastness started concentrating, shrinking, and refining, until, in a final act of cosmic alchemy, it became so densely packed that it vanished from sight, existing just beyond the cusp of mortal perception.
The now-invisible force, having traversed the vast expanse of the universe, moved with a purposeful intent towards its final destination on the planet. Flying across sprawling landscapes, it evaded mountains and rivers, cities and deserts, finally curving its trajectory towards a secluded part of the world. Hidden amidst a dense forest, far removed from the hustle and bustle of advanced civilizations, lay a modest village where time seemed to flow at its own gentle pace. Here, in one of the unassuming houses made of wood and thatch, a moment of pure human joy was unfolding. A family was celebrating the arrival of a new life, oblivious to the cosmic force that was about to intertwine with their destiny.
In the dimly lit room, the mother, her face glowing with a mix of exhaustion and elation, cradled her newborn. The baby, like all newborns, had initially announced its entry into the world with a robust cry. But as the unseen energy began to phase into the room and seep into the infant's tiny form, a palpable change occurred. The infant's restless wails gradually ceased, replaced by an aura of serenity and clarity that belied its age. The baby's eyes, which had previously sought to take in its new surroundings, slowly drooped, and it drifted into a peaceful slumber.
Gazing down at her child, the mother's heart swelled with emotions that words could scarcely describe. The intimate connection between them, one that had been forged over months, was palpable in the silence of the room. Her voice, soft and filled with warmth, broke the silence, "I shall name him Jingyi. Hong Jingyi." With that declaration, she leaned down, planting a tender kiss on the baby's forehead. And as if acknowledging the name and the love that came with it, a faint, almost imperceptible smile formed on the lips of the sleeping baby, hinting at the extraordinary destiny that awaited him.
