Chapter 40
Meanwhile, in another location before Lian Rougang's arrival...
The night hung heavy over the Kunlun Sect, the courtyard bathed in the cold, ghostly luminance of the moon. Suddenly, a door burst open with a thunderous bang, its wooden frame rattling violently.
A disheveled young woman with beautiful maple-colored hair cascading down her shoulders stumbled out, her eyes frantically searching.
She stared at the now locked door, her gaze filled with fleeting hope that quickly turned to disappointment and frustration as the unmoving barrier mocked her efforts.
"Aghh! I don't get it!" she exclaimed, stomping her feet in a bout of pique, causing the loose folds of her martial robe to slip further off one shoulder.
She irritably adjusted the garment, her brow furrowed in determination, before making her way towards the wooden bridge that spanned the flowing creek from the Kunlun mountain.
...
As she leaned over the aged railing, peering at her reflection in the gently rippling waters below, a ghostly shadow seemed to reach out from the depths, its distorted fingers grasping towards her.
This woman was no one other than Song Jia, who just recoiled with a startled gasp, her heart pounding in her ears.
"What did they say? I can't understand!" she muttered angrily under her breath, recalling the challenges she had just faced in the Tower. The words, uttered in that strange, guttural tongue, still echoed tauntingly through her mind.
Back then, after accepting the third floor challenge of the Tower, she had found herself transported to a peculiar environment, surrounded by ramshackle, flimsy houses intermixed with open sewers whose putrid stench of human waste assaulted her nostrils, resembling some sort of strange, squalid village.
Confused, she had tilted her head as she heard the murmured words "SAAVA..SAVA..SAVA?" from the locals, who seemed to scorn her with hostile, sidelong glances.
Everything about their village and its inhabitants, from their unkempt appearance to their colored blonde matted hair, strange blue eyes, and tattered, unfamiliar clothing, was utterly alien to her.
Now, rubbing her throbbing temples wearily, she gazing unseeingly at the fractured reflection wavering on the creek's inky surface.
"It's so draining," she muttered, letting out a heavy sigh that seemed to expel the weight of the entire world from her slender frame.
She had completed the Tower's challenge, defending that bizarre village without truly understanding anything except the goal itself. But the encounter with those unusual, incomprehensible people had left countless unanswered questions lingering in her mind like a dense fog.
Resting her chin dejectedly on the rough wooden railing, Song Jia wondered if she would truly be able to face the next unfathomable challenge that awaited her.
Each trial in the Tower was already an immense struggle, but this time it seemed even more daunting, having been forced to confront those grotesque, inhuman creatures.
The memory of their mottled green skin, slitted animal-like eyes, and utterly repulsive features made her shudder involuntarily.
Back then when a thought of killing flashed her mind, she initially hesitant when a stern, blonde-haired man pointed an accusing finger at the approaching horde of grotesque creatures and yelled gruffly at her in that incomprehensible tongue, Song Jia's momentary hesitation vanished like smoke on the wind as soon as she realized these monstrosities were decidedly not human.
"Their blood is green, not red like that of a human..." she muttered quietly, her brow furrowing as she remembered the foul beasts' corpses beneath her jian.
"Can I really do this, Master?" Song Jia whispered, her gaze turning inward as a kaleidoscope of memories flooded her mind—memories of her reason for joining the Kunlun Sect, her Master saying joining this sect was training that would eventually benefit herself.
Thinking about her Master, her lips formed a faint, foolish smile. "How about you, Master? Can you prepare the tea without me?"
Sometimes she felt lonely. Even though everyone at the sect had been kind and caring towards her from the very start, treating her like one of their own, a profound sense of otherness gnawed incessantly at her heart.
"But..." she trailed off, her thoughts drifting to a friend she had known since those earliest days, who had failed to complete the Tower's challenges and was now gone, vanished without a trace.
Sadness glinted in her eyes at the painful memory.
Things had taken a tragic turn for the worse after that first loss. The friends she used to spend her free hours laughing and gossiping with never returned.
She had even pleaded with one of them, to refuse the Tower's challenge, which she deeply knew was impossible.
And her worst nightmare had finally come true: one by one, she became the last survivor remaining from her peer group.
"I want to go back..." she had whispered brokenly.
"I don't enjoy the training anymore... Master, can I just leave the sect?" But her master had been resolute.
She had been instructed to join Kunlun and search for the truth of her own identity, and in order to overcome the illusions that chained her mind, she was advised to continually challenge stronger opponents.
She had also been taught to view every male as a dangerous beast whose prime directive was to harm and subjugate her, and her ultimate goal was to become a stronger, more skilled martial artist than even her already legendary Master.
Lost in the swirling vortex of her thoughts, Song Jia's gaze was suddenly drawn to the vibrant leaves gently descending from the trees, their brilliantly colored forms drifting lazily to come to rest on the gently rippling surface of the water.
She watched, entranced, as they moved in tandem with the small waves, their motions reminiscent of the fluid grace exemplified by her Master's sword art.
Suddenly, a silver flash erupted from the depths as a fish leapt from the water, its scales glistening like jewels in the moonlight.
One of the fallen leaves, caught in the turbulence of the fish's breach, seemed to burst forward with unnatural speed, propelling the hapless creature back into the air before being snatched away by a passing gust of wind.
Most would likely find such a phenomenon strange, perhaps even unsettling. But Song Jia, who had been observing the scene with rapt attention, felt her eyes widen in sudden understanding as the pieces fell into place.
"Rising Gale..." she breathed in an awed whisper, the name of the second movement in her Master sword art, the Pulse of Blade sword art falling from her lips like a prayer.
By building momentum through the preparatory motions, one could unleash an upward slash imbued with a gust of cutting wind, much like how the drifting leaf had seemingly propelled the fish skyward.
For a fleeting moment, she felt she had grasped the true essence of the move.
But as quickly as the spark of inspiration had flared, it guttered and died, dissipating like the last fading ripples on the lake's surface as the sight of the fallen leaves disappeared from her view.
Her expression froze, and she let out a cynical little smile, resting her face wearily on the rough wooden railing once more.
"Ah..." Her Master's sword art was proving to be an immense challenge, the intricacies and hidden depths eluding her still.
She had been stuck, struggling fruitlessly with just the first basic movement for what felt like an eternity. That initial excitement and laserlike focus she had begun her training with had faded, as if the vibrant world around her had turned dull, washed out and lifeless.
"Should I just concentrate on advancing the Kunlun martial arts then?" she wondered, the familiar self-doubt gnawing at her resolve. But then another thought, unbidden, crossed her mind, sending ripples through the stagnant pool of her consciousness.
"Come to think of it, how could 'he' mimic my sword art?"
Suddenly, she remembered that bizarre, unsettling encounter with the strange man who had astonishingly, impossibly, been able to duplicate her Master's peerless sword art flawlessly.
The colorless world she had been viewing her struggles through was now brimming with intrigue and new life, a kaleidoscope of unanswered questions swirling.
Her dormant curiosity began to resurface, one piece at a time. Why would that man hide such immense strength? How could he replicate her Master sword art so easily?
"I don't understand..." she muttered, growing increasingly bewildered and inexplicably curious as she tried fruitlessly to make sense of the stranger's baffling actions and abilities.
"Could it be because of that so-called 'skill'?" Song Jia pondered, her brow furrowing in contemplation.
Initially, she had considered this possibility, as many of the disciples at Kunlun possessed strange, almost supernatural abilities known as skills.
But was there truly a skill out there that could somehow imitate and replicate other martial arts? If such an ability existed, how had that man acquired it? Did he know about it from the very start and save up his coins?
She had, out of curiosity, explored that peculiar shop the other disciples always whispered about, the one that offered a staggering array of skills and martial arts techniques for sale.
But even a cursory glance had shown her that such power came at an immense price - the martial arts and skills on offer were exorbitantly costly, far beyond her means.
She could barely afford the first, most basic item on the list, let alone dream of obtaining the vastly more expensive and powerful abilities further down.
"No, I refuse to believe it..." she exclaimed, slamming her palm down on the weathered railing with a dull thump. "Who could have anticipated the sudden appearance of such a bizarre, reality-warping Tower, forcing everyone within its sphere of influence to enter against their will?"
Then another question arose, unbidden, in her whirling mind:
What if...
If it was truly this man's natural, inborn talent to so flawlessly mimic and emulate other martial artists , but then why would he bother concealing such an incredible advantage?
What purpose could he possibly have for hiding such power?
Amidst the maelstrom of her swirling thoughts and theories, an idea suddenly struck her like a lightning bolt, its stark simplicity giving her pause.
"What if I used him to improve my own skills?" She could feel the beginnings of a sly smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "After all, he copied my Master's sword art without permission... right?"
Immediately, however, she shook her head, dismissing the thought as quickly as it had come. To do such a thing, to so brazenly exploit another for her own gain, would be the height of dishonorable conduct utterly unbefitting of a true martial artist.
It went against every principle she had been taught to hold sacrosanct.
But then, a traitorous voice whispered from the deepest recesses of her mind, shouldn't 'he' feel at least some shred of remorse for so callously taking and replicating the hard-won techniques of another dedicated martial artist?
Did his actions not represent the highest form of disrespect and entitlement?
Her thoughts were in turmoil, a roiling tempest of conflicting principles and justifications. Should she inform her Master of this unsettling development?
"No..." she concluded after a moment's consideration. "If I do that, I'll likely just face more scolding and be burdened with another absurd, meaningless request..." She knew her Master's temperament all too well.
Song Jia let out a weary sigh, feeling drained, as she stared unseeingly into the inky depths of the water below, her own fractured reflection staring back accusingly.
The weight of doubt and loneliness seemed to press in on her from all sides in the wake of losing her friends one by one to the Tower challenges.
Her Master's strict teachings and the all-consuming drive to improve were the only bulwarks against utter despair, and yet she couldn't shake the persistent feeling of inadequacy, of simply not being enough, that gnawed relentlessly at her resolve.
Catching that fleeting, tantalizing glimpse of the leaf technique had stirred a flicker of hope within Song Jia's heart - for the briefest of moments, she had felt herself teetering on the precipice of a breakthrough, of finally unraveling the secrets of her Master's sword art.
But that spark of inspiration was swiftly, mercilessly crushed under the weight of her own lack of experience and understanding.
Once again, these though clouded her mind...
Why could that peculiar, inscrutable man succeed so effortlessly where she had failed and faltered time and again? A roiling blend of annoyance, bitter envy, and overwhelming uncertainty welled up inside her like a noxious miasma.
...
While her mind churned with these tumultuous thoughts and emotions, Song Jia found her feet carrying her forward almost of their own volition, drawn inexorably toward the dilapidated, abandoned courtyard where that 'man' had taken up residence.
Against her own will, morbid curiosity got the better of her disciplined restraint.
Although she had been sternly taught by her Master to be endlessly wary of men, to view each and every one as a dangerous beast whose prime directive was to subjugate and harm, this particular individual piqued her interest endlessly.
Perhaps, she reasoned, observing him discreetly from the shadows could provide some insight into his uncanny abilities.
She couldn't begin to fathom why 'he' had chosen to sequester himself away in such a rundown, ramshackle place.
But as she cautiously approached the weathered door, a movement in the corner of her eye brought her up short, freezing her in her tracks with one foot still raised.
"S...Senior Sister Lian?" Song Jia exclaimed in a shocked whisper, her hand instinctively flying up to cover her mouth as her eyes widened in disbelief.
There, she witnessed the unmistakable shadow of her respected Senior Sister being...kissed, embraced by the indistinct silhouette of another.
Senior Sister Lian's face burned crimson, as if she was struggling against these unsavory acts, being coerced into participating. She even gazed up at the impassive moon with an expression of profound resignation and sorrow writ large across her features.
The dire warnings from her Master about the inherent malevolence and corruption of men echoed loudly in Song Jia's mind, confirming her deepest, most instinctual fears.
Panic and searing anger surged through her like a flash flood as she stifled a shocked gasp, her hands trembling violently against her lips.
"I knew it! All men are the same!" she inwardly raged, feeling bile rise in her throat as despair and disappointment threatened to overwhelm her.
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