“The mistake that most cultivators make when dealing with shadow is trying to make it act like water,” said Jin Bohai from his seat opposite Sen. “You’ve clearly moved past that problem, but it’s an easy mistake to fall into if you’re not careful.”
Sen nodded as he looked out a window onto the palace grounds. He had very nearly fallen into that mistake. Less because it was a natural assumption, and more out of a human need to find similarities between things. The problem was that shadow wasn’t like anything else. It didn’t behave like water, air, fire, or anything other kind of qi that he’d dealt with. It could fill every gap like water, but had none of its substance. It didn’t displace anything like air. It neither consumed like fire, nor created like wood. It could be made solid, but it lacked the inherent rigidity of metal. If not for its presence as part of the natural world, Sen would have assumed that it came from somewhere else. Then again, for all I know, it did come from somewhere else, thought Sen.
“You said you’ve had some success with solidifying shadow, yes?” asked Jin Bohai.
“I have,” said Sen, producing a shadow ball and tossing it to the other cultivator.
Jin Bohai held the ball in one hand, turning it first one way and then the other. Sёarch* The NôvelFire(.)net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.
“Fascinating,” said the sect patriarch. “I can see how you did it, but it’s not a method I’ve ever used. Did Ruolan teach you to reinforce it this way?”
“She isn’t that big on teaching. At least, she isn’t when it comes to shadow qi. She much preferred to give me goals and let me stumble toward the answers, no matter how long it took.”
Jin Bohai winced a little and said, “I’m probably responsible for that. It was how my master taught me, so it’s how I taught her. She’d long since moved on from me by the time I recognized that it wasn’t the best way to do things. She likely hasn’t taken on enough students to realize that for herself.”
“I’m not sure she’d have ever had the opportunity. She told me that shadow qi users are exceptionally rare.”
Sen had pondered that problem himself and given up on it. He assumed that there was an explanation, but that it would be found in some area of cultivation where he lacked experience or expertise. Sen decided to change the subject. There was something he’d become increasingly uncertain about, and Fu Ruolan had been unable or unwilling to provide him with an answer. If she couldn’t or wouldn’t, perhaps her teacher would prove more willing to offer clarity on the matter.
“We all call it shadow qi, but I have to ask. Is that accurate? If I had stumbled across it with no guidance, I would have called it darkness qi.”
“Why?” asked a suddenly cautious Jin Bohai.
“Because I can still use it at night. I’m not claiming that the nighttime is entirely without shadows, but, frankly, it’s easier to use at night. That suggests to me that it’s at least something more than just shadow.”
Jin Bohai was silent for what struck Sen as an unnecessarily long time before he finally addressed the question.
“It is more than just shadow, but I strongly suggest that you never speak of it that way openly.”
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Sen frowned at the man. That response had seemed peculiar, especially for a nascent soul cultivator. It was like the man feared something, but Sen was at a complete loss as to what that something could be. He knew better than most that nascent soul cultivators weren’t true immortals, but they also had very little to fear aside from the heavens, other nascent soul cultivators, a vast number of enemies all in one place, and extremely powerful spirit beasts.
Well, those things and time itself. Time would eventually kill even the mightiest nascent soul cultivators if they couldn’t manage ascension. Still, that was a ludicrously short list of threats compared to what everyone else in the world had to fear. More salient to the current situation, none of the things on that short list were in play. At least, they weren’t to Sen’s knowledge, which didn’t exclude the possibility of some other reason to fear that he wasn’t aware of.
“Why not?”
“Because cultivators have their superstitions, just like the mortals.”
Sen was even more confused after that explanation than he had been before it.
“I don’t understand your meaning.”
“Cultivation as a practice is old. Possibly even older than this world, if some theories are right, but let’s just stick with this world for now. Cultivation has its roots in a time that predates most mythology and all known written history. No one knows the names of the first cultivators. We don’t know where they lived. We don’t know how they began cultivating in the first place, although it’s probable that the heavens interceded.
“What we can surmise is that they developed in a savage time. A time when so much as venturing forth at night meant certain death at the teeth and claws of animals, spirit beasts, devils, and demons. A time when darkness itself was the enemy. As much as cultivators like to pretend that we’re so much more than mortals, we are still prone to mortal mistakes. We carry prejudices that are passed down to us through our teachers from time immemorial, along with all the irrationality that goes with those prejudices.”
“And you’re saying that one of those prejudices is against darkness qi?” asked Sen, not at all convinced that it was true or that he should believe it.
Jin Bohai shrugged and said, “Yes. It’s implicit in a lot of beliefs and traditions you see in the oldest sects. They passed those beliefs on to the sects that splintered off from them, and those sects did the same with the sects that splintered off from them.”
“And what do they believe? That darkness qi is a demonic or devilish cultivation path?”
“None of them say it quite that directly, but that’s what it amounts to.”
“If that’s the case, why don’t I have this prejudice?” asked Sen.
“Because your teachers aren’t fools. Also, none of them really developed inside the sect system. Caihong is too methodical to be taken by that kind of stupidity. Kho is too smart. Ming is… Well, he never really cared what anyone else thought about anything. Yet, despite that, they told you it was shadow qi, didn’t they?”
“They did,” said Sen slowly as a sick feeling stole over him.
“Oh, don’t get that vaguely betrayed look. It truly was for your own good. Unless I miss my guess, you were in late core formation before you even started to question the nature of that qi. And, even then, it was probably only after you’d gotten some instruction from Ruolan. Am I right?”
“You are,” admitted Sen.
“There was no benefit in anyone explaining it to you until you were ready to ask the question. It didn’t hurt you to think of it as shadow qi as a foundation formation cultivator or even as a core cultivator. Your qi manipulation had to reach a certain threshold of refinement before the obvious became obvious to you. If you had wandered around calling it darkness qi, someone probably would have killed you for it.”
“So, let me make sure I understand this. We call it shadow qi because other cultivators don’t irrationally assume that shadow qi makes us evil. But they will lose their collective minds and, what, hunt us relentlessly if we call it darkness qi?”
“You have it surrounded,” said Jin Bohai.
“That is beyond stupid,” said Sen.
“Yes, it is.”
Sen wanted to argue about calling it shadow qi when it clearly wasn’t shadow qi, but he’d carried his own prejudices. He knew just how unreasonable they had made him. And Jin Bohai was right. There was no benefit to drawing unwanted, angry attention when things were already so dangerous. It was not a fight worth having when all he had to do was just keep calling it shadow qi. As lies went, it was a tiny one that wouldn’t burden his conscience, even if it did annoy him.
“Fine. Shadow qi, it is. But now that I know what it actually is, does that have any practical implications for its use?”
Jin Bohai offered Sen a bright smile and said, “One or two.”