Light in the Dark (Part 2)

My breath caught, my hope slipping through my fingers like sand. "Even if it's still at level two?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper.

He nodded, his gaze unwavering. "Even so. The core is a part of you now, intertwined with your very essence. Even if we found a way to suppress or remove it, it would only grow back. Worse, its resurgence would destabilize your light core. The imbalance would lead to repeated qi deviations. The strain would be unbearable, and eventually, it would kill you."

His words struck me like a blow. My lips parted, but no words came. I closed my eyes, trying to block out the world, but the weight of my frustration and despair pressed harder.

"Wei Fan," Abbot Mo began softly, his voice breaking the stillness of the meditation chamber.

"Call me Luo Fan," I interrupted gently.

He smiled and nodded. "Luo Fan, then."

A moment of silence passed between us, heavy with unspoken thoughts. Finally, he sighed. "Since you cannot go back to the way things were, why not accept your situation? You now have two cores. Instead of torturing yourself, holding back your progress, and struggling to rid yourself of one, why not nurture them both?"

The suggestion made my chest tighten. "Abbot Mo, it's not that easy," I replied, my voice firmer than I expected. "And I have no intention of nurturing a dark core. It's against my principles."

He tilted his head, his serene expression never wavering. "Luo Fan, nurturing a dark core does not necessarily make one evil. You can always find an alternative, a way to use it for good."

I shook my head stubbornly. "If you were in my situation, what would you do?"

"Exactly what I've suggested," he said without hesitation. "Unless I had a solution to remove it safely, I would accept things as they are. We cannot turn back time to undo the things we regret. Life is about moving forward and finding ways to repair the damage. That is the essence of living."

I clenched my fists, the weight of his wisdom pressing down on me. I had no comment. How could I? His words made sense, but my heart rebelled. Accepting the dark core felt like surrendering to everything I had fought against. I would rather lose both my cores and live as an ordinary man than carry this contradiction within me.

Sensing my inner turmoil, Abbot Mo continued. "Luo Fan, do you know there was once a sect that practiced dual-core cultivation?"

My eyes widened in surprise. "A sect?"

He nodded. "Yes. Though they were few in number, they were exceptionally strong. And they weren't inherently evil. They may have been indifferent to the world at times, but they recognized their duty to help those in need. When calamities struck, they offered aid, donations, and helped rebuild communities. They never turned away the hungry, and when the world was threatened, they stood as its protectors."

I leaned forward, intrigued despite myself. His words painted a picture I hadn't considered before. A dual-core cultivator as a force of good, not evil. A glimmer of hope flickered in the darkness of my thoughts.

"So you see," he continued, "they may not have been friendly or open, but they were not wicked. In many ways, they were heroes. You could be the same."

I tried to picture someone who was indifferent yet noble, detached yet righteous. Despite my efforts, one image intruded in my mind—Ruan Yanjun.

I quickly shook my head, banishing the thought. No. I could never emulate someone like him. I had no intention of becoming a copy of that arrogant, manipulative demon.

But when I thought more deeply about Abbot Mo's description, I realized Ruan Yanjun didn't truly fit it. He wasn't just indifferent—he was inherently selfish, driven by his own desires and goals. Whatever good he had done was incidental, a byproduct of his own ambitions. Righteousness was the last word anyone would use to describe him.

"Does this sect still exist?" I found myself asking, unable to suppress my curiosity.

"Unfortunately, their numbers have declined over the centuries," he said, his tone tinged with sadness. "Dual-core cultivation is devastating to the body and mind. Many of their disciples ended up destroying their own foundations to escape the suffering, rendering them unable to practice martial arts ever again. Finding someone capable of handling the balance between two opposing cores is exceedingly rare. Over the years, their numbers dwindled until they nearly disappeared. As far as I know, you might be the only one of your kind left today."

My breath caught in my throat. The idea of being so utterly different, so isolated, was terrifying. "That… makes me feel like an outcast," I admitted quietly.

Abbot Mo shook his head. "You are not an outcast, Luo Fan. You are unique. And while it may feel like a burden now, your uniqueness gives you the opportunity to forge your own path." He paused, a small smile softening his features. "One of their temples still exists to this day."

My heart skipped a beat. "Where?"

"It's located on Guidao Island, a remote island south of the Xianru Empire," he explained. "The sect is known as the Storm Surge Sect. It's little-known to most, but I believe a small number of priests still reside there. It's said that they guard ancient texts and teachings of the sect's past dual-core grandmasters. You might find someone there who shares your condition, someone who can guide you. And even if no one like you remains, the wisdom in their library could help you find the balance you seek."

The hope in his words was infectious, and for the first time in what felt like ages, I allowed myself to believe that there might be a way forward. A path where I could live without being consumed by my inner conflict.

"You truly think they can help me?" I asked, my voice trembling with newfound hope.

"I believe so," he said firmly. "And if not, they will at least point you in the right direction."

I nodded, finally seeing a ray of hope for the first time. It felt like several doors had opened before me, each offering a chance at redemption.