The Luxe Life Reboot: Cultivating in the Wild

Chapter 19

Unto Death

Leo felt something bubble that he'd been ignoring since coming here--fear of death. Though he'd thought about his life on Earth quite often, he'd never thought about his last moments. In part, it was because he couldn't fully recall them, but it was also because he feared where the thoughts would take him.

He'd died, once. As for how, why, when, or even where... he wasn't terribly certain. The last memory of pure clarity he had was him driving over to a local party, getting there, and starting to drink. After that... the memories became blurry, incoherent, and fragmented. Flashes of faces here and there, a sense of abject horror, and the sounds of distant sirens. How he died, he didn't know. But he did 'die'.

Thus, having a random man show up in the forest claiming that he'd come here to die woke up certain things he left slumbering. But even Leo could see, from the depths of the man's gaze, that the determination was like an eternal flame that no amount of convincing would extinguish. Even if Leo offered the world, it felt, the man would still say no.

Leo made a few preparations--mostly just feeding the animals and looking for the kind sparrow who'd shown him the way--before setting off. The sparrow spent most of the time on his shoulder, occasionally flying up to show him where to go.

The old man followed slowly behind him, yet his steps were focused and determined. Perhaps it was akin to the last embers of the fading flame, but he still shone brightly enough to not be outmatched by the world around him. Neither spoke, letting the silence boil.

Half an hour later, Leo glanced back because he could no longer hear the consistent footsteps. The reason was simple: the old man was growing weak. He was short of breath, and his strides were uneven. Just as Leo was about to walk back and help him, the old man raised his hand and said, "Don't."

He slowed down the pace, and continued.

Bit by bit, Leo could tell, that more animals were converging along them--most were hidden away from their sight, scurrying through the shadows of the forest. As for why... he couldn't tell. Perhaps the old man was someone of extreme importance--after all, there was an old saying to 'not fear the arrogant young, but the silent old of the cultivation world'. Anyone strong, skillful, and cunning enough to survive into their winter years would not be anyone ordinary.

It was an hour later that Leo finally recognized the tree border; beyond it, the most breathtaking scenery he'd seen in his life existed. Glancing back, he saw that Tian Yu was barely walking--if it could even be called that. He was using his cane to support himself, taking seconds for each and every step. His breathing was ragged, his face slightly blue, and it looked like he would collapse at any moment. Despite that, he didn't want any help.

Leo waited until the old man caught up to him, and they stepped out into the clearing together. Despite seeing it for the second time already, Leo was no less enthralled with the sight--rather, perhaps even more. He began to notice the tiny details that he missed the last time, such as the fact that the stream that converged into a waterfall actually had two sources, or the fact that the temperature grew slightly cooler the closer to the canyon they got.

"This..." the old man mumbled, shaking. Leo said nothing, but extended his arm and prevented him from falling down.

"Let's sit," Leo said, and the two slowly walked over to the edge, sitting down. There were dozens, perhaps even hundreds of animals who were curiously looking at them, but none of them approached. In fact, even the usual suspects who never left Leo alone--such as Hoot and Blackie and Milky--were staring at them from the distance.

Leo tossed his legs over the edge of the hole while the man sat cross-legged, an expression of awe on his face.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Leo asked.

"The most," Tian Yu replied. "To think such a harrowed place held such beautiful secrets. Why is it that, so often, the rotten on the outside hides the paradise within, and the gilded exterior hides the stench of decay therein?"

"... I've learned, in life," Leo said. "The more occupied you are with how you look on the outside, the easier it is to let the rot in and to let it corrupt you. Those obsessed with inner selves, on the other hand, think that the outside appearances are irrelevant, so they forgo embellishing themselves entirely."

"That is true. I've spent a lifetime wandering the plains of the Lower Ashlands," the old man chuckled faintly. "I've visited the demonic cults, the renowned, righteous sects, and all the things in-between. Yet the stench of rot... it never quite disappeared. Perhaps, it was that I carried it with me, everywhere I went."

"..."

"I was not a good person--and an even worse martial artist. I've ignored the plight of the poor and the weak, I've committed murder, thievery, and a slew of other crimes in the pursuit of strength, and all the while, I've excused it, saying that it was simply the part of living in this world. If I were to be kind, others would do to me what I was doing to others."

"It is easy to be like others," Leo said, thinking back on his own life. "There are few things harder in life than to set your back against your peers and stand up for something against their wills and whims and beliefs. Be the voice that nobody wants to hear."

"No, no there isn't," Tian Yu said. "And the few times that I've tried... I have failed. If anything, had I not tried, perhaps it would have unfurled for the better."

"Is that why you're here?"

"No. I am here out of selfishness, as always. There is no higher meaning in my actions, Venerable Leo. I am merely an expression of my sins, a story finally reaching its end. As I said, I have come here because of my greatest regret. But now that I am here... hah, there is more loathing in me than before. I feared this place all my life, believing it to be where those who venture never come out alive. Green Hell of the Ashlands, they called it. Perhaps, all those years ago, if I braved that step, I would have been able to save my mother. Alas, if what-ifs were bricks, the world would be a temple."

"... all our actions, inevitably, resonate," Leo said. "Maybe the only reason you are here today is because you didn't brave that first step, all those years ago. Life is a string of choices, and there isn't a soul alive who wouldn't want to go back into the past if ever for a moment, if only to change that one thing. But changing that one thing... can anyone, even gods, foresee the rippling effects on the world it would have?"

"Then, are men to live free of regrets?"

"No. But we shouldn't fear them, and instead use them as strength within," Leo said. "There's a saying in--in my hometown: at our deathbed, we regret not the things we did, but those we didn't. It's wrong, of course; we regret... everything. Few people, if any, depart from life even partially fulfilled. We all yearn for another day, another chance, even another word. Whether it is the things we've done, or the things we wish we did... they all hang above us like the ashen clouds, following us wherever we go. Your regrets have brought you here, but it is only here that you've realized the futility of your regrets, and it is only here that you've recognized you could have stepped into this place all those years ago. It's life's grand paradox, and one we can't escape."

"... you speak as though you have lived a death, once," Tian Yu said. "Ah. I heard stories, that when mortal men shed their coils in the pursuit of Immortality, they experience death. So, it was true."

"..." Leo was dumbfounded for a moment, but didn't say anything.

"Will it hurt?" the man asked, prompting Leo to look to the side and meet the aged, weathered gaze. The pair of gray eyes were heavy and gilded with decades of wisdom, but also delusions.

"Only if you want it to."

"They are all mighty curious," Tian Yu said, looking around in a circle where hundreds of animals had converged, observing them. "And terrifying."

"They're rather nice, actually," Leo felt compelled to correct him.

"Nice, huh?" the old man chuckled. "Can I ask you for a selfish favor, Venerable Leo?"

"What is it?"

"My granddaughter will come here, soon enough," he said. "Once my Soul Tablet cracks, and she learns of my fate... I was foolish enough, one day, when I drank a bit too much, to have shared with her my sorrows. She will want to bury me properly and perform Ancestral Rites, but... I don't deserve them. I'd rather become a part of this grand beauty, entombed within the roots of the world-bearing trees. When she comes, please... could you see to it that she is not harmed? Simply send her away. Sweet Yue..."

"I'll see to it," Leo said.

"Thank you. Ah," the man looked up at the clear sky. "What divine hand compelled the Primordial Qi into such unattainable beauty? The world, shorn of men, is the grandest concoction of all. Mountains, rivers, valleys, oceans, forests, canyons, caves... we wander adrift upon these constructions, tearing them for our means, and forsaking the nature nurturing us. And yet... it embraces us, still, like a mother taking back into her arms a child that had run off, only to come back broken."

Leo noticed faint changes around the man, specifically the strange, ashen-colored vapor forming around his frame. Instinctually, he recoiled; for some reason, he dreaded that thing, as though it was his worst enemy.

"Thank you," the old man said, glancing at him; corners of his eyes were faintly wet with tears, and his old, cracked lips were curled up ever so slightly. Perhaps it was a mirage, perhaps it was of Leo's own making, but he could swear that he saw the old, wrinkled face smooth out for a moment, and then undergo life anew, from cradle until the grave. He saw the innocent, hopeful eyes age and grow weathered and broken, the gaze in them darkening like the night. And he saw the scars pile up like dirt mounds, one on top of another, never fully healing. "For bringing me here."

"..." Leo remained silent, at a loss for words. What was he to say, now? There were no words. At least none that he could conjure.

"Ah," the old man sighed, closing his eyes and facing forward. "Quell thy rage, o' storms of my heart. We are going home."