Chapter Twenty-Four: Fate's Design?

Chen Jin gazed into the distance. Using Xinyang’s powerful vision, his eyes pierced the darkness, shrinking the miles between, and beheld the true form of that tiny speck of yellow in the night.

It was a flame—a single spark ignited by a man.

The man was a young fellow, dressed in tatters, his face bruised and battered. He stood before the gate of a courtyard, kindling the fire, all the while laughing wildly. Chen Jin could not fathom what amused him so, but there was no mistaking the madness in his laughter—unrestrained and frenzied.

The fire burned upon his own body, yet in his delirium he seemed insensible to pain, oblivious as the blaze grew fierce and licked at his flesh, threatening to consume his very life.

Chen Jin hesitated, uncertain whether to rush down the mountain to save him. At his current speed, he stood a fair chance of reaching Wenma County in time—perhaps not to rescue the man whole, but at least what remained.

But scarcely had a second passed before the flames, as if doused with oil, surged forth, spreading from the young man to the courtyard itself.

The fire slithered impossibly, like a water serpent, along the stone pillars and walls by the gate, seeking every scrap of fuel within the yard.

The young man only laughed all the more, his madness unbound.

Suddenly, a torrent of rain crashed from the heavens, each drop as large as a bean, pelting the youth and the courtyard alike.

The sinister flames were snuffed out at once.

This was no ordinary rain, but a true, localized downpour, falling only between the youth and the courtyard before him.

Someone was wielding magic. Chen Jin saw it all with clarity.

In Wenma County, only Ge Hong possessed such power.

And Ge Hong now stood beside Chen Jin.

“Uncle Ge, was it him?” Chen Jin asked.

“No,” Ge Hong replied with a shake of his head.

“True—an ordinary mortal could hardly bring about a plague demon’s calamity,” Chen Jin nodded.

“Not necessarily. The affairs of this world are ever unpredictable...”

Ge Hong was about to launch into a lesson when, beneath the sudden rain, the young man began to dissolve.

Literally dissolve—as if powdered milk met water, or lard struck a blazing hot wok.

At the sight, Ge Hong immediately stretched out his hand.

A vast hand of azure energy materialized in Wenma County, dozens of miles away, appearing beside the youth and scooping up three feet of earth beneath him.

That entire patch of ground, with the dissolving youth upon it, was grasped by the great hand and carried toward the mountain crag where Chen Jin and Ge Hong stood.

Chen Jin stared in astonishment. What manner of sorcery was this? Ge Hong’s power was nothing short of miraculous.

In Wenma County, a night watchman had witnessed the spectacle firsthand. He had only just turned a corner, yawning and striking his gong, when he beheld a downpour unseen in a hundred years, followed by a man melting like the wax in a magistrate’s lamp.

But that was not the most shocking sight. Next, a titanic blue-green hand, as large as a house, uprooted the very earth beneath the melting man and bore it away toward Gaoping Mountain.

“A... a... an immortal?!” the watchman stammered, trembling on the ground.

As he babbled, cool rainwater crept under his seat—the runoff from the courtyard’s deluge. Startled by the chill, the watchman scrambled to his feet and fled in terror and excitement toward the county yamen.

...

Back on the mountain crag, Chen Jin was still reeling in amazement.

Truly, in all the memories he’d inherited from Xinyang, the most storied feats were those of flying swords cleaving heads from a thousand miles away. Never had he seen a giant hand reach across leagues to snatch up earth and man alike—though, perhaps, the flying sword was the more elegant method...

Still, to see such a hand appear before his eyes, carrying a chunk of earth the size of a house, and with Ge Hong appearing so at ease—one might think he could lift the whole of Gaoping Mountain itself without breaking a sweat.

Earth and youth—or rather, earth and a heap of mangled flesh, for what remained of the youth was scarcely distinguishable from gruel, mixed with filth and excrement, reeking to high heaven.

Yet neither Chen Jin nor Ge Hong showed the slightest distaste, nor did they shield their senses. Instead, they drew close to examine and sniff.

“Uncle Ge, what is this?” Chen Jin asked.

“Witchcraft—sorcery from the southern wilds,” Ge Hong answered gravely.

“The southern wilds? How did it find its way here? And why target him?” Chen Jin pressed.

“To mar the heavenly order,” Ge Hong replied, his gaze returning to Wenma County.

“???” Chen Jin was baffled, his mind awash with questions.

“You are a student of the sword, not of the arcane. It is no surprise you know little of such things. The workings of fate cannot be wholly perceived, but they may be glimpsed—traced in faint hints. We cultivators may ignore these hints if we choose, but as long as we dwell among mortals, unascended, we remain bound and blinded by fate. I have served as an official more than once, only to find myself swept along by destiny, helpless to resist.

“Yet the power I now possess is also the gift of fate. As the saying goes, ‘Fate makes and unmakes alike.’ Perhaps I shall fail in my cultivation, doomed by fate itself.” Ge Hong gazed up at the starry sky, sighing in reflection.

“If fate is so mighty, why should we pursue cultivation at all?” Chen Jin retorted.

“You... Ah, do as you see fit,” Ge Hong said, casting Chen Jin a glance and shaking his head.

Chen Jin could not divine his meaning.

Ge Hong then separated the fleshly remains from the earth, placing the foul mass into a conjured cauldron.

He sealed the cauldron, uttered an incantation, and locked it with a spell.

“Is that the end of the plague demon’s calamity?” Chen Jin asked, watching Ge Hong’s efforts.

“Not yet...”

Ge Hong broke off, his expression turning strange as he glanced again toward Wenma County.

Chen Jin followed his gaze.

He saw that the rain Ge Hong had summoned was spreading. At first, it had fallen only upon the courtyard and its surrounds; now, it engulfed an entire street, then the whole county. The downpour had become a deluge—what had seemed earlier like large raindrops now felt like a gentle mist by comparison.

Ge Hong hastily formed a seal, attempting to end the rain, but the oppressive clouds above Wenma County showed no sign of dispersing. Instead, they thickened, swelling toward Gaoping Mountain.

“This is the weather itself,” Chen Jin observed.

Indeed, it was the weather, no longer merely the product of Ge Hong’s spell.

The clouds ultimately reached Gaoping Mountain, enveloping it despite Ge Hong’s repeated efforts.

“Such is Heaven’s will,” Ge Hong murmured, watching the torrential rain pour down around them, unable but to sigh.

“Uncle Ge, if we could carry these waters to the sea, perhaps we could stave off a mountain flood,” Chen Jin suggested.

Rumbling thunder rolled forth— the roar of surging water, like galloping steeds, approached.

...

End of section.