“Our sect follows the Righteous Path,” the Sword of Beginning’s teacher said. “What is the Righteous Path? How would you answer?”
His teacher’s words made him think. Righteous. Being right.
As the thoughts crossed his mind, he quickly answered, “I believe it means pursuing what is right.”
“What is the meaning of being right?”
After pondering, he answered, “Literally, it means not being wrong.”
“What’s the difference between what’s not wrong and what’s wrong?”
The Sword of Beginning thought but couldn’t answer.
His teacher raised his bandaged hand and pointed somewhere. “What does that appear to be?”
He looked in the direction his teacher pointed. A fluffy cloud drifted across a spring sky so blue it almost hurt to look at.
“It appears to be a cloud.”
“Yes, a cloud. How does that appear to you?”
His teacher’s question made him think again. The reply came after a long pause.
“It looks sad.”
“Why?” his teacher asked.
“The sky is vast, but the cloud is alone.”
“Hmm.”
A line appeared on his teacher’s smooth face; a smile spread on his lips.
Crouching down, his teacher said, “What you said at first is right. Calling a cloud a cloud isn’t wrong, or seeing and accepting all things in heaven and earth as they are. Mountains are mountains, clouds are clouds, the wind is the wind, and water is water. That is the Righteous Path’s mindset.”
The lips of the face without eyes or nose slightly parted, the reed bobbing up and down.
“What you said next is not right. Loading your own sentiments onto the clouds isn’t right,” his teacher said. “Why is the sky so clear? It’s because it doesn’t know my feelings. Why do the clouds drift alone? It’s because they share my distress. In this kind of view, mountains can’t be mountains, and water isn’t water anymore. That is the mindset of the Demonic Path. The Righteous Path is about emptying oneself to embrace the world, while those who follow the Demonic Path seek to bind themselves to the world like tethers. Both have clear limits. In the world of Righteous Path, a mountain is a mountain, so it can’t connect with me. Meanwhile, in the world of the Demonic Path, none of the things in the universe can exist without me.”
As the Sword of Beginning listened to his teacher’s words, he thought of those who had forged him and those he had cut down.
His teacher raised his bandaged fist. “I hit your head because that is the entry rite of this sect. Why do you think that rite exists?”
“To empty the mind,” he answered in a polite tone. “Because one should empty oneself to embrace something else.”
“That is correct. Because we are human, it’s hard to see a mountain as only a mountain. It’s necessary to cut out these sentiments set in one’s mind. Since you were born special, you had to be hit more than others.”
“I thought it was because my head is hard.”
“That’s also one of the reasons.”
A moment of silence passed.
His teacher smiled, then pulled the reed from his mouth, pinching it between his index and middle fingers. “That is how I emptied you, my disciple, but don’t misunderstand. Both the Righteous and Demonic Paths have their limits, but they’re also valuable in their own ways. Still, it also means that both are dangerous when taken to the extreme.”
“What do you mean by dangerous?”
“Think of a martial artist from the Righteous Path. This skilled martial artist reaches the realm of a divine sage and can see humans only as humans. To them, someone who is grieving the loss of a child they barely managed to have and someone who was born into wealth and has never known deficiency are both the same kind of human being.” His teacher heaved a sigh. “When one gets used to seeing the world as it is, one ends up seeing all things as nothing. If one truly sees everything in the world as equal, they’re unable to feel for anything; they are no more than a monster, completely detached from humanity.”
His teacher gazed at the Sword of Beginning intently.
“Don’t become like that. I took you as my disciple and emptied you. I’ll teach you, someone forged in the heart of the Demonic Path, how to see the world right. But, my disciple! That world carries the hearts of those who made you and the feelings you hold for them.”
His teacher spoke, leaning against his sword embedded in the ground.
“The loneliness you’ve borne until now is also part of the world. Just like how you don’t need to overestimate it, you don’t need to abandon it. Accept its weight as it is."
His teacher’s sword pointed toward the drifting clouds in the distance.
“Accept it!”
The Sword of Beginning looked at the clouds.
“Accept the world. Accept yourself!”
He did. He sprang to his feet and took a deep breath, letting out a fierce roar, as if he were going to kill the spring. His face didn’t carry the same spirit, only his eyebrows furrowed slightly as he screamed with all his might. There were no tears, and thus no sobbing. That was his scream.
“Yes.” His teacher nodded. “Release it. Cry. Don’t give up what you’ve inherited, but make room for other things to enter. “
With a beaming smile, his teacher continued, “I’ll then teach you how to smile.”
The teacher kept that promise.