The Heart of the Dao

Su Qing rushed to Zhu Xing’er’s side. “You’re awake! How do you feel? Any discomfort?”

“I… what happened?”

Zhu Xing’er propped herself up with her arms, struggling to sit. Her messy hair framed her pale face, her head ached, and her spirit was listless. “Did I sleep a long time?”

“You had a fever for three days. It just broke.”

“No wonder. In my dreams, I felt like I was dying. Ghosts chased me, tore my clothes, grabbed my legs, trying to drag me underground,” she said, tears suddenly spilling. “It was so dark. I was so scared…”

Xiu Fu pulled the girl into her arms, soothing her. “It’s okay now. You’re back with us.”

Zhu Xing’er clutched Xiu Fu’s sleeve, sobbing loudly.

Su Qing and Xiu Fu exchanged a glance, relieved. The girl was burdened—crying would help.

Su Qing didn’t join the tearful embrace; she had work to do.

She stepped out of the shack, gathered firewood, and started a fire. She set a small clay pot on it, adding water, roasted rice, and wild greens to make vegetable porridge. Four wild bird eggs were buried in the ashes to cook.

The pot bubbled, the aroma of rice and greens filling the shack. Zhu Xing’er’s crying slowed, her stomach growling.

The porridge was hot but better eaten warm. Su Qing divided it, handing a portion to Zhu Xing’er. “Eat. Everything’s fine after a meal.”

The porridge wasn’t refined, slightly scratchy, but salted for flavor. They finished it, and the eggs were done. Su Qing and Xiu Fu took one each, leaving two for Zhu Xing’er.

She teared up again, refusing.

Su Qing tapped her forehead. “Enough tears. Save your strength to recover. Helping yourself helps us. Eat.”

Though simple, Su Qing felt this was the most comforting meal in days.

After eating and resting, their strength returned. Zhu Xing’er could walk normally. It wasn’t time to linger, so Su Qing decided to press on.

They were at the main peak’s base.

It looked like any other mountain, just larger—more climbing. Always climbing. Did immortal sects have to be in the wilderness? So exhausting.

After two hours, a massive mountain gate appeared. Simple, like a lone doorframe between heaven and earth, it carried a faded grandeur, like wind-worn temple ruins.

A stone plaque above bore four characters: “Tianxia Sword Sect.”

The strokes flowed freely, bold and spirited, brimming with heroic vigor—no trace of a craftsman’s hand.

Su Qing imagined a white-robed sword immortal centuries ago, wine in one hand, sword in the other, carving these four characters with effortless slashes.

These words alone proved Tianxia Sword Sect’s renown.

Nearing, Su Qing saw well-dressed clan disciples meditating below, their teams guarding them.

Were they absorbing some opportunity?

But there was no spiritual energy here.

Seeing Su Qing’s trio, they grew wary, hands on weapons, looking unapproachable. Su Qing had no interest in their affairs and moved on with Xiu Fu and Zhu Xing’er.

Past the gate, things eased.

The path became stone steps, tier upon tier, endless even when craning her neck.

Xiu Fu marveled, “What a feat—like a heavenly ladder!”

Terrifying, truly.

But safe, surely—stairs posed no danger, right?

As Su Qing thought this, an object rolled down from above.

They dodged as it crashed into the gate, stopping.

It was a person.

A person, rolling like a ball, still alive, struggling to rise like an upturned beetle, failing, and fainting.

Zhu Xing’er paled, terrified. “I don’t want that!”

A few checked the person, shaking their heads.

“His Dao heart broke…”

This sight made Su Qing’s group warier of the steps.

But there was no other path.

“No matter what, we try. We’re here now!” Su Qing gritted her teeth, stepping onto the first stair.

The moment she did, something felt different—subtle, indescribable.

Her imagination?

Soon, she knew it wasn’t.

“Xiu Fu, feel anything strange?”

No answer. She turned, puzzled. “Xiu Fu? Why aren’t you talking?”

“Xiu Fu?”

“Xing’er?”

They were gone. No trace of her companions, nor the other disciples she’d glimpsed.

Trees vanished, birdsong ceased, golden sunlight faded, wind stilled. All was silent, save the towering white steps, an endless road.

With her companions, Su Qing had always felt reassured, facing everything together.

Now, alone, panic crept in. She shouted, but only her voice echoed in the empty valley.

They were gone.

She stood alone on the endless steps.

Looking back, she murmured, “I wonder how Xiu Fu and Xing’er are.”

No choice.

She could only move forward.

Maybe it’d get better soon.

Su Qing climbed.

Soon, she noticed a perk.

In this boundless white illusion, she felt no fatigue or hunger.

Just loneliness from the silence.

All she had to do was climb, step by step.

As she took comfort in this, she looked up and froze. A white figure stood ahead.

Her heart pounded, nearly bursting.

How could it be him?

How did he get ahead?

The Qi Clan’s Daozi!

“How are you so fast?” Su Qing’s voice broke with panic.

He ignored her, slashing with a sword.

The qi tore through, earth-shattering.

Su Qing dodged clumsily, nearly tumbling down.

“Where are Xiu Fu and Xing’er?!”

He didn’t answer, sending another sword qi. Furious, Su Qing grabbed a stone and hurled it at him.

If she fell today, she’d drag him down too. If she died, she’d take a piece of him.

They were all human—why was he so superior, so intent on annihilation?

She just wanted to live!

As if echoing her will, the stone struck his face, knocking him back.

Su Qing: …

Disappointed, she said, “It’s an illusion.”

She understood. “I know this one!”

A classic novel trope: nine thousand nine hundred ninety-nine steps, testing an unshakable Dao heart.

Realizing this, Daozi’s figure vanished.

A phantom, as expected.

She wondered what Xiu Fu and Zhu Xing’er faced.

Recalling the man who rolled down, she prayed they were okay.

She wasn’t worried about Xiu Fu—her resolve to find medicine for her family would carry her. But Zhu Xing’er, only fourteen, still shaken, might struggle.

This was a solitary trial. Su Qing couldn’t help; she had her own test.

After seeing through Daozi’s illusion, Qi Lifeng and Qi Libei’s phantoms were easy to dispatch, toppled by stones.

She sensed a pattern: if only she had a sword.

Then, in a daze, she felt something warm and sticky underfoot.

Blood flowed from the steps above, soaking her soles.

Though she knew it was fake…

It still unsettled her. Bracing herself, she stepped forward.

Wang Wu’er’s pale limbs appeared, his twisted, pained face staring at her.

“Save me… save me!”

He reached for her feet, limbs limp, collapsing like a boneless snail, crawling toward her.

Fake, fake.

Su Qing stepped past, chanting.

But a girl’s shrill cry came behind. “Brother, Liu’er hurts so much! Mother, where are you? Save Liu’er!”

Fake, fake!

Su Qing fled forward.

A sea of corpses awaited.

Blood covered the steps.

Familiar faces lay sprawled: village kids from the selection, Wang Xiaoni, Zhang Tiezhu, Li Dalang…

The melon vendor, the tofu lady, the fishmonger.

Xiu Fu’s parents, the old village chief, his wife.

Xiu Fu and Zhu Xing’er.

Like soft snails, they stared with hollow eyes.

“Miss…”

“Miss Su Qing…”

“Sister Su Qing…”

“Su Qing…”

“Save me, it hurts, it hurts!”

Fake, fake!

Qi Libei and Qi Lifeng appeared, swords dripping blood.

Qi Lifeng: “All dead?”

Qi Libei: “Of course. These lowly mortals dirtied my sword!”

Fake, fake!

Fake, fake!

All fake!

But—what if it’s real?

You saw Wang Wu’er’s fate. Why couldn’t it happen to those you care about? To you?

If they turned murderous—

Would they really spare anyone?

Did she go too far?

Maybe she should’ve endured. Endurance might’ve saved her.

They’d reach the main peak soon—they might’ve let her go.

Why couldn’t she keep enduring? To survive, she should’ve.

She’d done wrong, offended them.

Her recklessness would drag others to their deaths!

If only she hadn’t acted.

The steps crumbled, the ground quaked.

Blood flooded, tinting her vision red. Her fingertips bled, as if marking her guilt, flowing endlessly no matter how she wiped.

She stumbled, about to fall. She knew she was trapped in the illusion but couldn’t break free.

“I couldn’t think that far. I just wanted to live.”

“I want my life in my own hands.”

“Am I wrong?!”

She shouted, and time froze. A gentle voice sounded, as if from the distant heavens.

“Young friend, what is your Dao heart?”

Dao heart?

Now, of all times—her mind was chaos, blank.

“My Dao heart is…”

She murmured, the answer surfacing clearly.

“I want a sword. I want to be strong.”

“I want to live with dignity.”

“If I can, I want others to live with dignity too.”

Her words started hesitant but grew clear, her heart steady by the end.

“The Qi Clan is too strong, and I’m too weak. I can’t stop them. It’s not my fault, but to them, weakness is a sin. I’ve done what I’ve done—regret’s useless. Offending them is done. I can’t guess or control what they’ll do next.”

“All I can do is find a master, grow strong—strong enough to protect myself and those I care about.”

Her gaze hardened.

“I’ll climb the main peak and join Tianxia Sword Sect.”

As her words fell, the dark, bloody illusion shuddered and dissolved.

Simple stone steps returned.

Lush trees, chirping cicadas, clear skies, bright sunlight.

She was back in reality.

Xiu Fu and Zhu Xing’er were gone, facing their own demons.

This was a solitary path.

Su Qing pressed forward without hesitation.

Her Dao heart formed, no illusion could trap her.

Three days later, in the dawn’s glow, she reached the main peak’s summit.

A black stone, twice a person’s height, stood at the sect’s entrance.

Its weathered sword marks declared it: the Sword-Testing Stone.

Su Qing placed her disciple token on it.

Golden words emerged from the token.

“Tianxia Sword Sect Disciple No. 381”

“Su Qing”