Heart II: Dewa or Shura (Deva/sura or Asura)

Mingyao's eyes opened to the great canopy of red, yellow, silver, blue, and green. Night and day remained split, yet the sky and the sea beneath her seemed to drift, as if gaining momentum, though there was no disturbance. She turned her gaze in one direction and saw a dancing blue flame.

Somehow, it had entered her sea of consciousness. The flame hovered, swaying to an unknown melody. An unseen pull from her own body compelled her to follow it. She moved toward the flame, yet as she approached, it drifted farther away, as if they were playing a game of tag.

Mingyao tried with all her might to catch it, but there was nothing she could do. She attempted to call it to herself, using the connection she had formed with it, yet nothing happened. After what felt like an eternity, she gave up. She wasn't sure how to leave her sea of consciousness, so she had hoped to catch the flame—perhaps through it, she could wake faster and go save her sister.

She knew that she was unconscious, but simply knowing did nothing to help her wake. Exhausted by the situation, she sat down and tried to meditate within her sea of consciousness. Perhaps the act of cultivation would somehow help her fragile body. It was a gamble, but she had to do something—being imprisoned by her own body was not a good feeling.

When Mingyao began her meditation, attempting to cultivate her energy, she felt a strange connection with her sea of consciousness. It was not the familiar calm, flowing river she was used to. Instead, it felt as though something was growing within her. Though possessing a sea of consciousness was still new to her, the experience felt oddly familiar—like being a god within a miniature world, similar to the realization that one was having a lucid dream. Yet at the same time, her authority was limited. She always chalked this up to either her cultivation not being high enough, or her inability to do it alone, considering that she shared this space with her twin.

Yet the strange experience felt abnormal, as though something was forming earlier than it should have—or perhaps right on time. She could hear faint whispers of the mantra she had spoken when she connected with the ghost flame. Maybe that was what the flame had wanted to show her. She rose, planning to follow the soft mantra. It didn't guarantee she could escape, but it was better than simply sitting around.

As she stood, ready to move, a figure appeared before her.

It was her male form—Zhao Mingyu.

"Ghost sister?" she exclaimed.

The male form turned toward her, his face twisted with distress. Immediately, Mingyao felt a stream of emotions flow into her. She could tell at once that they were not her own, but Mingyu's. Fear and anxiety washed over her.

Seeing his sister, Mingyu felt a wave of relief crash through him as he ran forward and embraced her. Mingyao was taken aback by the sudden display of affection, but as she felt his erratic emotions begin to settle, she allowed it. He held her a bit too tightly for her liking, yet it helped pacify him nonetheless.

Once Mingyu had calmed down, she decided to inquire about his situation.

"Where have you been these past three days, and why are you so anxious?"

"Three days?" Mingyu asked, suddenly confused.

To him, it hadn't even been a full day since they had separated in the cave. From his perspective, only a few hours had passed at most, yet his sister claimed they had been apart for three days.

Not knowing what else to say, he began recounting his experiences—from his journey through the nether with Yazu to his attendance at the Pale Court. Mingyao listened calmly, yet she could sense a clear discrepancy between their accounts.

Mingyu insisted they had only been separated for a few hours, while Mingyao was certain that was not the case. Although she didn't initially know how time was measured in the nether, she had quickly learned how it worked. Time there was told through the convergence and divergence of the nether moons, which marked day and night. When the blue and red moons drifted apart, it was daytime. When they moved closer together, drawing in the purple moon, night fell. When the purple moon rose alone, it marked the Spirit Window—a period when time flowed one-to-one with the outside world.

The Spirit Window lasted only three hours, but during that brief span, every aspect of the nether—from spirit beings to the land itself—seemed to descend into a heightened frenzy. Everything became volatile, powerful, and unpredictable. That was why the man Mingyao had met had warned her against remaining outside protected areas like villages during the purple moon's descent.

So far, she had witnessed three purple moon descents. At first, she was confused by the workings of this system—if that were truly the case, then the purple moon should have risen every ten days instead of every day. In the end, she left those thoughts to the nether itself. The nether had its own rules. She bundled the time disparity away as just another feature of this bizarre realm. Perhaps time there was not as linear as she had once believed.

She broke free from her thoughts, her attention returning to her current predicament. Her younger sister was missing, taken by who knew what, to who knew where. Meanwhile, her body in the outside world was not faring well; the cold was seeping through her, down to her very core.

Mingyao shared her part of the story, catching Mingyu up on the events that had unfolded. The mantra calling to her still whispered softly, persistent and insistent. She decided to follow it, and Mingyu followed suit.

The flame also seemed to follow the group, drawn to the soft mantra. As Mingyao, Mingyu, and the flame moved through the vast landscape of day and night, the world grew increasingly illusory—fluid and unstable, distorting and dancing between forms, as though they were traveling through the shifting reflections of a lake.

Suddenly, Mingyao, Mingyu, and the flame found themselves standing before a palace of grand proportions. The surrounding area remained unsettled, yet the palace itself sat solid and unmoving. Still, something about it was deeply unsettling: another palace rested atop it, oriented upside down.

It was as if the sky had been covered by a vast, mirror-like lake, reflecting the palace below and forming a second palace in the heavens.

Mingyao felt a strong pull toward the palace, her instincts screaming that this place was the key to her escape. She stepped forward and reached for the door, hoping to enter. The moment her hand touched it, Mingyu—still standing in stunned amazement—was flung upward toward the inverted palace in the sky. His sense of orientation twisted as he passed through an unseen barrier.

At once, the palace above was bathed in radiant sunlight, while the palace on the ground grew cool and dim, illuminated only by the pale glow of moonlight.

The blue ghost fire dancing beside the duo suddenly split, becoming two separate flames. One vanished into Mingyao's chest, the other into Mingyu's. A strange sensation passed through them both, resonating deep within their beings. In that instant, Mingyao felt the energy she had been struggling to consolidate finally settle into place as her cultivation soared.

"I've broken through to Tier Five," she said, excitement rising in her voice. At the same time, she sensed Mingyu breaking through to Tier Five of Qi Refining as well. Her excitement grew, her mind racing with possibilities—until she remembered her current predicament. Calm soon returned, and she turned back toward the immense door, hoping it would lead her out of her sea of consciousness.

The moment her intention formed, without her even touching it, the grand gate swung wide open, granting her entry. She stepped forward, expecting to see towering buildings and vast courtyards beyond. Instead, she was met with overwhelming darkness.

She was immediately pulled inside, and behind her, the grand gate vanished without a trace.

In the vast darkness, the fire that had entered her burst free, casting a dim light before disappearing into the void. Mingyao was puzzled by its sudden action, but instinctively she followed it.

She trailed the flame until she reached a space bathed in starlight. The surrounding darkness was dotted with fragments of stars, as if the night sky had fallen and blanketed this place. Seven large stars dominated the scene, each radiating pure, steady light without twinkling, surrounded by smaller stars whose glow faded the farther they stretched.

In total, there were roughly a hundred stars, though Mingyao could only offer an estimate.

Suddenly, the blue fire halted. A beam of light descended from one of the seven great stars, strengthening the flame as it merged with the light. The beam persisted, and the fire began to take on the appearance of burning ice. Slowly, a small structure began to form within its radiant glow.

Mingyao felt a terrifying authority emanating from the forming structure, her body shivering under its profound aura. Then she heard the mantra she had spoken before. A familiar sigil—slightly different but almost identical to the one she had seen on Mingyu in the cave—began to take shape. Soft whispers layered upon layer surrounded the sigil, and merely listening to them made her want to submit, crushed beneath the weight of its terrifying pressure.

Then, just as suddenly, it stopped. Before her now stood a neat castle, seemingly made of white moonlight streaked with bleeding crimson.

Mingyao was confused, but there was no time to ponder. The strange structure—once burning ice, then a bleeding castle, then a slightly stained moon—suddenly shot upward and dissolved into her being.

Immediately, her senses went haywire. She began to hear colors and see sounds. Her perception twisted as her mind struggled to orient itself. It felt as if a thousand needles were pricking her organs; her body became frigid as ice spread through it. Layered voices whispered deep within her, and the agony threatened to drive her mad. She tried desperately to calm herself through meditation.

Then, suddenly, all the chaos stopped. The star-strewn area dissolved, leaving an icy sea.

Mingyao felt as though she were drowning. Yet the cold of the icy water calmed her turbulent body, washing over her in a wave of serenity. Relief came at the expulsion of the chaos and pain, but it was short-lived. Slowly, the water began to close in, devouring her.

She felt the water pressing down on her with unbearable weight, while at the same time the cold seeped through her body, slowly freezing her organs. It was like being naked in winter with the weight of a bear crushing her back. She wanted to scream, to swim out, yet her body refused to obey.

A subtle will arose from deep within her, urging her to endure, to cultivate. If she could withstand this, she could strengthen her ice-aligned body. Her mind raced to her current tier—Tier Five—which demanded rigorous discipline of the body. This, she realized, was the perfect trial.

She began circulating her energy, cultivating under the extreme conditions. The process was agonizing. She could feel her skin blister, frostbite gnawing at her, yet she was submerged in water as cold as ice. Breathing felt foreign; each inhale filled her lungs as if with water, yet she did not drown. Instead, she felt the slow, relentless creep of ice devouring her muscles and tendons like a cold, unyielding fire. Once it reached her muscles, it seeped into her bones.

The sensation was overwhelming, as though she were dying in the merciless frozen lake. But she endured, pushing her will forward. Gradually, the pressure eased, and her body began to adapt to the ice. She did not stop cultivating—if she was to suffer, she would extract every benefit.

Her Qi deepened, taking on a sharper, colder quality, yet it still had not reached the state she desired.

The pressure returned, doubling in intensity. The cold ice surged as well, seeping deeper into her, chilling her to the bone. Mingyao felt her mind, organs, body, and soul slow, her previous thoughts and cares gradually grinding to a halt. The cold crept into every organ, freezing each one. She coughed violently, blood spilling from her lungs as the icy energy intruded.

Strange lotus formations began to sprout across her body as the water that had seeped into her skin burst outward. The process was agonizing, a pain so deep she felt she could give up entirely. Her will to live wavered, yet deep within, something clawed at her, urging her to endure. She knew a great reward awaited at the end.

Then the pressure quadrupled, reaching her bones and seeping into her marrow. At first, the pain was unbearable, but slowly, a strange serenity settled over her. The freezing lake felt like the embrace of a mother, soothing and irresistible, tempting her to surrender, to fall into it and sleep. All the tension within her seemed meaningless. If she gave in, her worries would vanish.

Her body began to freeze, the thought of surrender sinking in. She felt herself turning into ice, abandoning cultivation and all else—until a vision of Zhao Qingmei flashed in her mind. She could not leave her sister behind.

The engulfing frost and ice surrounding her suddenly began to dissolve into her skin. The cold transformed into energy, flowing into her cultivation, merging with her being.

Immediately, Mingyao felt an overwhelming surge of power and ability coursing through her body as she was pulled toward the surface of the frozen lake. She punched through the solid ice, shattering it with her delicate fingers with nothing more than a touch. Now she hovered above the vast expanse of ice.

Suddenly, her hands closed around something—a hilt—and a familiar weapon began to materialize before her.

It was the glass-like blade Yue Ying was known for: her Moonblade. It pulsed with a terrifyingly profound energy. Mingyao stared, confused, unable to fully process the situation—until a voice resonated deep within her.

"Master… have you finally awakened?"

The Moonblade shimmered with ethereal moonlight.

"Who's there?" Mingyao asked.

"I… suppose not. It's okay. It's only a matter of time," the voice replied as the glowing, glass-like sword aligned itself in her grasp. "You are not strong enough yet, Master… I must sleep again. But I will see you soon."

With each word, the voice grew fainter, fading into silence, leaving Mingyao gripping the Moonblade and feeling its quiet, formidable presence.

Mingyao immediately understood—it was the sword. Her mind reeled from everything that had just occurred, but she quickly forced herself to focus on her situation.

The ice expanse beneath her collapsed, and she found herself back at the Campor Tree, where she saw Mingyu radiating intense, fiery Qi. He seemed to be holding a spear, but before she could call out to him…

Suddenly, Mingyao was back in the inn, the Moonblade firmly in her hand. Mr. Du was there, ready to greet her. He was busy cleaning the frost that had just engulfed the room, but the moment he heard her stir, he turned to her with a quick, attentive glance.

"How do you feel, my disciple?"

"I… I am much better, Master," she said, struggling to stand as she moved to bow to Mr. Du.

He stepped forward, steadying her. Her body still felt weak.

"Careful. Your body is full of cold energy."

Mingyao barely registered the warning.

"I need to save my sister," she said, her voice groggy.

"Sister?" Mr. Du asked, his brow furrowing in confusion.

"Yes. She was taken by that menacing man earlier."

"That… that was your sister?" he repeated, still trying to process.

Mingyao nodded. "Indeed."

Mr. Du's expression darkened, and a long, heavy sigh escaped him. "I'm afraid… she can no longer be saved."

"What do you mean?" Mingyao asked, her confusion sharpening.

"She… she has been chosen as this year's sacrifice."

"Sacrifice? What do you mean by that?"

Mr. Du drew a deep breath before he spoke, his voice low and somber.

"As you know, this is a ghost village. I know you are still living, but for the rest of us… we are spirits of the dead."

"Yes…" Mingyao whispered, a chill running down her spine.

"For all the dead who enter the Nether, they first fall into the Chaos Sea. There, their attachments—obsessions, karma, and other lingering ties—must be cleansed. Many souls drift to different parts of the sea: some to heal, others to purge negative karma, and some to inhabit ghost villages, where those burdened with resentment or other attachments must learn to let go. Only then can they flow to the Sea of Serenity, awaiting their next reincarnation.

"But letting go of resentment is easier said than done. Resentment is far easier to cling to and let grow than to release. And once it passes a certain limit… like that girl you saw… the ghost loses control of itself. It becomes a resentful spirit, driven solely to spread chaos and mayhem."

"So… you mean my sister has become a resentful ghost?"

"I'm afraid so."

"Wait… that means she's… passed away."

Mr. Du sighed, wistful and heavy.

"Indeed. That seems to be the case."

Mingyao felt a sharp ache in her heart. Regret swelled within her, and she wished she had paid more attention to her sister, cherished her more, but now...

"No… no, that can't be. There must be a way to resurrect her, right? I'm in the Nether—there has to be a solution!"

"Young miss, once someone dies, they can no longer be resurrected. Only reborn."

"No… there has to be a way."

"The best you can do now is pray for her farewell. She is a resentful ghost. Recovery from that state is… difficult."

"Difficult, but not impossible, right? You're right, Mr. Du. My focus now must be on saving my little sister."

"I'm afraid that may be impossible. She has been… sacrificed to the Shura."

"Sacrificed? You keep saying sacrifice—this sacrifice, that sacrifice… What do you mean by that?"

Mr. Du exhaled a long, weary breath.

"You see, this ghost village houses many spirits burdened with vast amounts of resentment. If left unchecked, countless ghosts would transform into resentful spirits. Luckily, once a year, we are granted a month dedicated to us—a time when we can return to the land of the living and begin to move on from our attachments."

"Do you mean the Ghost Month?"

"Indeed. But not everyone is granted this privilege. It is reserved only for those who still have kin to remember them. Even so, merely visiting the living realm does not guarantee that resentment will be fully cleared. That is why, in the month following the Ghost Month, our village holds another festival of its own. During this festival, the collective resentment of the village is gathered by the most resentful spirit, who is then offered to a Shura in the mountains."

"A Shura?"

"Indeed. Do you remember when I told you it is hard, but not impossible, for a resentful ghost to survive losing control? That is how one endures the wave of resentment, cultivates it, and becomes a Shura."

"So… that fierce man I saw—he was a Shura?"

"Yes. Every year, he takes a sacrifice: the most resentful ghost in the village. It aids in his cultivation."

"This… you mean you sacrifice one of your own members every year to keep the village safe?" Mingyao's face twisted with horror. "Then what is he going to do with my sister? Is he going to… devour her?"

"…I am not sure. No ghost taken to him has ever returned."

"You mean… you've just sacrificed my sister!" Mingyao's emotions surged, and cold Qi began to leak uncontrollably from her body.

"Calm yourself, young miss. The Shura are not inherently evil. Even the Lord of the Chaos Sea is a Shura himself—known to be benevolent, though harsh to evildoers."

"You're asking me to calm down for some unknown existence?"

Fuming, Mingyao rose, sword in hand, and began to stride toward the door. Mr. Du moved to stop her, but she pushed past him, driven by a chaotic storm of emotions.

"Are you going to search for your sister?" Mr. Du asked.

Mingyao said nothing.

"You won't survive outside the village, let alone find the Shura," he warned, pointing beyond the walls. A purple moon hung in the sky, bathing the land in its exotic, otherworldly light.

"And what am I supposed to do?" Mingyao asked, a tear streamed down her cheek. "Just let my sister be devoured?"

Mr. Du fell silent for a moment before speaking again.

"Let me go with you. Resentment is attracted to resentment. Using me as a compass, we may be able to find your sister," he said finally.

"Are you sure?" Mingyao asked, her voice trembling.

Mr. Du simply smiled. "How could I let my disciple face this alone?"

They both walked out of the inn and soon enough the village.

------

Mingyao and Mr. Du had ventured deep into the forest. She had expected creatures of the night to ambush them at any moment—the purple moon was said to stir something within spirit beings, especially spirit beasts—but so far, there was nothing.

The walk had been almost unnervingly peaceful, so much so that Mingyao began to wonder if Mr. Du was playing some trick on her. Still, she remained vigilant, following his lead.

After some time, Mr. Du suddenly stopped.

"I feel a huge wave of resentment coming from that direction," he said, pointing toward a mountain at the far end, hidden beneath the canopy of trees.

Just as they were about to continue, Mingyao caught a small whimper—like that of a wounded animal.

"Did you hear that?" she asked, glancing at Mr. Du.

He didn't respond.

"We must keep moving, lest you be deceived by a beast," he said firmly.

Mingyao heard Mr. Du's warning and initially wanted to follow it, to avoid causing trouble. She was, after all, not a native of the Nether, and it was safer to heed the advice of the locals. Yet something about the whimper drew her in, almost hypnotically. She tried to resist, but before she realized it, she was moving toward the sound.

Mr. Du gave up trying to stop her and, hesitantly followed.

At the source of the sound, Mingyao found a small white fox, barely old enough to survive on its own. It looked injured and in pain.

"Just leave it. If we take it and its mother finds out, we might bring trouble upon ourselves," Mr. Du cautioned.

But the fox's innocence stirred something in Mingyao. She felt compelled to care for it, almost unable to resist.

"Don't worry. I'll just care for it until it heals, then release it back to its kind," she said firmly.

Mr. Du sighed but allowed her to scoop up the young fox. Together, they began moving toward the mountain.

Suddenly, a low growl cut through the forest. Before they could react, a massive silver wolf leapt from the underbrush, lunging straight at Mingyao. Instinctively, she drew the Moonblade and unleashed a slash of ice Qi, cleaving one of its limbs cleanly.

She stared in awe at her sudden surge of combat power—but before she could revel in it, more wolves appeared, surrounding them. Mingyao and Mr. Du had no choice but to flee.

The forest suddenly turned violent.

Branches shook as silver shapes burst from the shadows. The injured wolf let out a painful howl and almost at once more howls answered it from every direction. Mingyao felt her scalp prickle.

"Run," Mr. Du said, already turning.

Mingyao ran, holding the fox close to her chest. The pup trembled and let out a weak sound, which only made her push harder. Roots and stones scraped her feet as she surged forward. Her breathing was ragged, gasping, but she forced herself to keep going.

A wolf leapt from the side.

Mingyao drew her sword and kept slashing. Cold qi sliced through the air as the wolf hit the ground, its body freezing on impact. She felt a sharp pull in her arm and almost lost balance but she steadied herself and kept running.

Mr. Du lagged behind, tumbling forward. He stumbled more than once, and Mingyao had to slow down for him, frustrated.

More wolves appeared ahead, blocking the path.

Mingyao gritted her teeth and swung again. Ice spread across the ground, forcing the wolves back for a moment, but more poured out from the trees. Their eyes reflected the purple moon as they closed in.

One came from behind.

Mingyao turned and stabbed. The blade pierced cleanly but the force jolted her shoulder. The fox cried out and she tightened her hold, fear flashing through her mind. She could feel her qi draining faster than expected.

"We won't make it like this," Mr. Du said, breathless.

Mingyao didn't answer. She pulled him forward and ran harder, ignoring the burning in her legs. The mountain was close now, its outline faint beyond the trees.

A heavy presence pressed down on her chest.

She took one more step—

And the pressure changed.

The air felt different, a bit heavier. Mingyao crossed an unseen line and nearly stumbled as her body reacted. Cold qi spread from her without her control.

Behind her, the wolves stopped.

Their growls died out. One by one they backed away, bodies low to the ground. Even the largest wolf lowered its head before turning and fleeing into the forest.

Silence returned.

Mingyao stood still for a moment, breathing hard. Her hands shook as she looked down at the fox.

Mr. Du glanced behind them, then toward the mountain.

Suddenly, a pillar of golden light erupted from its peak.

"This…" Mr. Du stared at the source of the oppressive aura. "I think we've arrived," he said, turning to Mingyao. "But that doesn't feel like Shura energy at all. Is that ethereal yang? Then… a Dewa?"

"A Dewa?" Mingyao asked, confused.

Before he could answer, the ground beneath them began to rumble. The earth shook as the surrounding space distorted into a blur. When their vision finally stabilized, they found themselves standing before a young man who looked no older than Mingyao herself.

"Why have you come to this place?" the man asked calmly.

Mingyao was still dazed when her eyes fell upon her sister—bound, enveloped in an ominous aura.

In an instant, she drew her blade and leveled it at the mysterious man.

"If you don't release her," Mingyao said coldly, "you will die."