We made our way out through the winding tunnels, not interrupted even once. I honestly expected someone to intercept us; if not any of the city's cultivators who may have noticed something off with the array, then at least Zi Tai. I'm certain she didn't just get up and leave, but try as I may... I can't see her. Was she so good at hiding? I mean, if Long Tao chose to hide, I can't quite see him either, but he's an old monster at the very least.
Ah, whatever.
The little side-mission paid off a great deal, and I'd finally got to see the full extent of the kids' abilities. They were... well, they were something else, that was for sure.
But that wasn't what shocked me the most, actually.
What shocked me the most was that I didn't think any of them could actually beat me as I am now. Which I know for a fact isn't actually true--Wan Lan could easily outlast me, Xi Zhao could do unspeakable things to me, and Light... well, anyway, the point is that I saw nothing in their attacks that made me think, 'Geez, I wouldn't be able to defend against that'.
And that's a first.
In fact, for a good chunk of the fight, I was running scenarios in my head as if I were in the sage's position. None of those scenarios lasted particularly long as the kids pummeled me into the ground, but just the idea that I even contemplated it...
I don't think about it often, but I truly have come a long way. I think. To be fair, I still yap and occasionally get anxious thinking about what we'll do next, but there's also a calm in me beyond using the arts that's just the result of living in this reality for so long.
It's sort like I was in high school; for the few months, I was extremely awkward and insecure and uncertain on what to do. I mumbled and stumbled my way through them, but once I got used to being there... well, it wasn't smooth-sailing, but it was sailing, at least.
The magic of being human, I guess, is being able to adjust to whatever hell's around you. I remember my biology professor mentioning something along those lines; supposing the existence of atmosphere, proper distribution of gasses, and presence of liquid water, and livable temperatures, humans can survive anywhere. Not live, but at least survive.
That's what I've been doing all this while, I feel--just... surviving. Taking it day-by-day, worrying, shuffling about and trying to make myself look small. But at some point, I think I tried living. I still dip back into that survival mode, but more and more I catch myself thinking the kind of shit that would have horrified me when I first came here.
"What are you thinking so deeply about?" Lao Shun walked up to me and asked.
"Not much," I said. "Just that I don't have as many mental meltdown as I used to."
"... I don't think it's fair to call them meltdowns, though."
"Hm?" I glanced over at him.
"You were a bit cowardly, sure," he said. "And looked wracked with anxiety on occasion, but you never crumbled. True meltdowns... you witness a person unfold like a piece of parchment, completely vanishing before your very eyes. Before long, they're unrecognizable. Husks of who they once were."
"... fair," I nodded. "Happened to someone you know?"
"A Junior of mine from the Tower," he replied. "It must have been a few hundred years ago. I'd just become a Heart-Rank Alchemist not too long before that, and was finally beginning to make a small name for myself. A tradition in the Tower is that, once you reach the Heart-Rank, you take a few of the Body-Rank Initiates under your wing. Not as official Disciples, of course, but more so Juniors that you occasionally guide.
"It was one of the smallest batches that the Tower took in, twenty kids or so in total. He and a few others were assigned to me, so I showed them around, occasionally guided them, and helped them with the Tower's politics. I noticed it relatively quickly--though none of them were particularly talented, he was just... not suited for alchemy. Even some of the Elders in the Tower advised him to choose another field, or even pursue cultivation as he actually had a Heaven-level Root. But... he refused. Said that Alchemy was his divine calling, and that he'd sooner die than change it."
"Sounds stubborn," I said.
"He was," he nodded. "And a fool to a boot."
"What happened to him?"
"He fell further and further behind," Lao Shun's face turned quite melancholic as he sighed. "Before long, they forbade him usage of a cauldron. All he was allowed was picking up and sorting of the herbs. He started drinking, more and more. Other kids started bullying him. He was eventually stripped of the Novice Alchemist title, but as some Elders felt bad for him, they kept him around, hiring him to discard the herbal sludge and some other small jobs around the Tower. One day... he simply lost it. Cursed out everyone, broke a lot of equipment, and set one of the small sheds on fire. He ran away before they caught him, and by the time they got to his quarters... he was dead. At some point, he'd thieved a stalk of Shadowgale, and we found him chewing on it."
"..."
"This world has a way of getting to people," he looked at me. "Honestly, you and the kids are vast exceptions. Most of the rest of us are walking around with demons in our hearts. The fact that you somehow managed to shield them all this while... it might be more impressive than anything else you've done."
"... the offer still stands," I said.
"The offer?"
"Your heart," I pointed at his chest. "If you're worried, you can ask Han Yimu about his experience."
"... huh. So, you really can do it?"
"You didn't believe me?"
"I wanted to," he said. "It's fine," he pushed a smile. "I meant it when I said the first time: it's my mountain to summit and no one else's."
"Regardless, even if you don't want it, I'm always here," I said. "You can talk and I'll listen. And I promise to judge you silently and never to your face."
"And I appreciate that greatly," he grinned. "You truly are donning the mantle of my Master, huh?"
"No, not Master. Just a friend."
"..."
"I know what it's like to be drowning and gasping for breath and have nobody there to pull you up," he'd quieted down and stared back at me. "So, even if you won't let me pull you out of the lake to the shore, I'll at least never let you drown."
"... thanks," he squeezed out after a momentary pause. "I appreciate it."
"No problem."
"I'd appreciate an ancient, forgotten recipe a whole lot more--"
"--get out."
"Ha ha ha."
His laughter rang a bit lighter, I felt, as he sauntered to the front, leaving me to sigh helplessly. He may be five centuries older than me, but it seems to hardly preclude one from being an internal mess. Then again, I imagine that at some point years begin to blend together.
Even back on Earth, toward my late thirties, I barely registered individual days. Rather, I counted my life in weeks. If I did that in my thirties, I can only imagine what I'll do in my five...hundreds? Yeah. Let's go with five-hundreds.
Can't wait.
... maybe.