In the days that followed, Haoran found himself increasingly distracted, his thoughts wandering and circling back to the same point—Ling Feng. Fox spirit. Darkling.
He needed to understand.
Why would Elder Songhe, known for his righteousness, conceal the existence of a darkling? It was strange that the Elder had lied back at the infirmary, implying that the boy was no threat, that he was merely a mortal who would leave once he recovered. Clearly, it had been meant to placate him and Huifen, to divert their attention from the matter.
—Familial ties?
Haoran frowned at the thought, replaying the words in his mind. At the time, the statement had not fully registered, but now it troubled him. How could there be a connection between the Silver Thread of Shifting Stars and a dark spirit?
Immortal Songhe had walked the path of detachment for longer than Haoran had been alive. Celibate. Ascetic. To suggest that the Elder had a son was absurd.
And yet, he could not dismiss the unease gnawing at him. If not a son, then perhaps something else—a bond forged through karma rather than blood.
Still, why the secrecy? Why the quiet protection of a being that, by all nature, should be sealed or slain?
Troubled and unable to find peace, Haoran entered the classroom for his afternoon philosophy lesson. The winter sun poured through the open lattice windows, casting a warm glow over the rows of Vermilion Bird disciples seated at low desks.
The soft light should have been soothing, illuminating the polished wood floors and the faint whorls of mist curling in the chilly air, but today it brought Haoran no comfort. His spirit felt heavy, burdened by an unfamiliar restlessness. Even the soft murmurs of his peers discussing his condition after the attack and his swift recovery sounded distant, unable to pierce the fog of his thoughts.
Grandmaster Zhouyi entered.
The class fell silent at once, every disciple straightening as their attention shifted toward him. Master Zhouyi's piercing, discerning gaze seemed capable of seeing straight through to the soul, making even the most restless disciples think twice before daydreaming in his class.
He began the lesson with his usual measured cadence, speaking of harmony and balance, the twin pillars upon which every cultivator's path toward ascension rested.
Haoran listened at first, but soon his thoughts drifted toward darker questions. His mind wandered back to darklings, not the kind he had fought at a distance with sword and skill, but those like Ling Feng, dark spirits that walked in shadows and lingered in memory.
A restless drive to understand them surged within him, more intense than ever. Their nature, their motives, their very essence.
“Master,” he called suddenly, his tone carrying an edge of urgency that startled even himself, “is it possible for a cultivator to find common ground with a darkling?”
The question rippled through the classroom like a stone cast into still water. A hush fell over the room. Whispers followed, low and uncertain, as the disciples exchanged glances, some curious, others uneasy. It wasn’t every day that someone dared voice such an unorthodox thought aloud.
Master Zhouyi lifted a single brow. His discerning gaze fixed on Haoran, studying not only the words spoken but the intent beneath them. He stroked his long gray beard in silence, letting the moment breathe before he spoke.
“Ah, Haoran,” he said at last, his tone calm and measured, “yours is indeed a profound question, one not often asked in a hall such as this.” He paused, letting the weight of his words settle. “I fear it is not a question that can be answered in full here. To grasp such complexities requires a depth of cultivation and experience beyond your current level.”
Haoran’s heart sank, but Master Zhouyi continued before disappointment could take root.
“However,” he said, his gaze softening as he adjusted the wide sleeves of his robe, “perhaps I can offer some insight to ease your curiosity.” He gestured toward the smoke curling upward from the bronze censer, the air fragrant with sandalwood. “Such a question touches upon truths that many fear to confront, for the nature of darklings is bound to four of the Six Realms: the Mortal, the Ghost, the Spirit, and the Beast. But before we delve deeper, let us begin with a recitation, to remind ourselves of the order of the realms and the laws that govern them.”
Several hands rose at once. Master Zhouyi’s eyes swept the class before settling on one of the female disciples.
“Feiyun,” he said with a nod.
The young woman stood gracefully and began to recite in a clear, steady voice:
The Eternal Ordinance
Above all shines the Heaven—the seat of divine power and the summit of light.
Air hums with sacred power, and the skies burn with unending radiance.
In this place dwell the gods, the immortals, and the chosen.
Where Order reigns as law unbroken; Purity is the measure, and Virtue is the gate.
The faithful walk the path of enlightenment—ascending, step by step,
In discipline as breath, and duty the unbending spine.
All the faithful are welcome at the golden gate.
Beneath the Heavens drifts the primary force—
The mystery and the divine breath.
In forests of shimmer, enchantment, and glass rivers,
Here dwell the spirits of mountain and sky—the guardians of wind and flame.
The tree is awake, the breeze alive, and the fox will speak.
In this realm of balance, all forces of nature take their form
For mortals to call upon them for blessing and protection.
The closest to the world of men are its envoys,
Denizens who descend at will—to guide, to test, to warn.
At the heart of creation lies the Mortal Realm.
Here are the children of dust—men, beasts, and spirits in flesh.
In the crucible of trial and growth is the place of choosing—
The place of joy and sorrow, of birth and death, of love and ruin—
Through which the soul is tempered.
The mountains rise, the rivers wind, and cities crumble,
For the will of men shapes the land anew.
In the cycle of life to death, death to rebirth,
Destiny is given—or taken,
Upon the bridge between Heaven and the Abyss.
Beyond the veil of breath drifts the green Ghost;
The dead wander in the mists of their sins,
The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.
To the River of Sorrow, bearing the echoes of mortal cries.
It is the place of reckoning, the mirror of the soul.
Denizens behold their deeds and bear their weight.
Hatred binds and forges wraiths that cannot pass;
Only those who find peace are carried through—
To rebirth, to ascension, to the wilderness.
The river is the judge between Heaven and the Abyss.
Beyond the bounds of reason roars the Beast in its place.
In the cradle of instinct is the womb of unshaped power—
Behold: the Qilin walks with thunder, the Phoenix flies and burns eternal,
The Azure Dragon coils through endless skies.
And it is wild, untamed, and proud.
It is not noble, nor cruel, nor blind—it is only true to its nature.
At the base, cast in shadow, is the Demon.
The prison is as a fortress, forged from chaos and fire.
Air burns to black smoke by the rule of volatile power.
Here dwell the fallen, the forsaken—the faithful in corruption,
In a realm of extremes—from grand cities to desolate wastelands,
Spirits, ghosts, and beasts turned to monsters.
The miserable seek redemption, yearning for escape.
Yet most revel in their corruption, glorying in destruction.
Thus are the Six Realms set in their places:
Heaven above, Demon below, and Mortality between.
Flowing in the endless cycle of birth and return—
The law of karma, the path of retribution, the rhythm of eternity.
So is decreed, and so it shall remain.
Feiyun seated herself once more, lowering her gaze in respect. Master Zhouyi gave a slow nod of approval, not merely pleased, but thoughtful, as though reminded of truths he had long held sacred. His expression softened with quiet reverence; to him, the recitation was not mere doctrine, but perfection made words.
“If you’ve been paying attention, you might have noticed something curious,” he began, his tone calm and deliberate. “There is no mention of a distinct darkling realm.”
The statement hung in the air like a gong strike, commanding the room’s attention.
After a pause, Zhouyi continued, “That’s because the concept of realms, while useful for mortal understanding, is incomplete without addressing the primordial forces that govern all realms: yin and yang, light and darkness.” He gestured with open hands, his voice soft but heavy with meaning.
“All creatures of the cosmos are subject to this fundamental truth: they are never static, never fixed in essence. All beings are born with the capacity for transformation. For many, these shifts are gradual, imperceptible, unfolding over lifetimes or under circumstances so subtle they go unnoticed.
For others, the changes are dramatic, often wrought by conflict, suffering, or the relentless pull of power. Such change may come willingly, as an act of enlightenment or understanding. More often, it comes when external forces overpower a soul’s resistance.”
Xuelan raised a tentative hand, and Zhouyi nodded for her to speak.
“Master,” Xuelan began, “are you saying the darkling realm isn’t a realm at all? That it is… rather a state of existence?”
Zhouyi’s lips curved faintly, approving.
“Precisely. The term ‘Darkling Realm’ is misleading. It implies a fixed plane like the Mortal or Ghost Realm. But darklings do not exist in a separate plane. They exist within the four known realms, caught between yin and yang.”
“Coming back to your question,” Zhouyi said, turning to Haoran, “you asked if a cultivator can find common ground with a darkling.” He paused, his gaze weighing each word.
“To answer that, I must say yes… and no, depending on how one defines the purpose of cultivation.
The path of a cultivator is to attain mastery over self and the universe. At its core, cultivation exists to preserve balance. When darkness, chaos, destruction, or corruption threatens that balance, a cultivator’s duty is to oppose it, to restore harmony. This is why we fight darkness. This is why we destroy evil when it rises. Darkness, unchecked, seeks only to consume and corrupt.”
He let the words settle, observing the unease ripple through the room before continuing.
“The oppressive aura of a darkling stems from the corruption of yin energy within its core. This darkness is born not from yin itself, which is not inherently evil, but from imbalance. Unchecked yin leads to chaos, just as unchecked yang leads to destruction. The blackened aura is the mark of that collapse.”
Master Zhouyi paused, his eyes sweeping the classroom, gauging understanding before continuing.
“Now,” he said with measured calm, “based on this, what do you think it means to ‘find common ground’ with a darkling?”
It was Feiyun who raised her hand, and after a nod of approval, she began.
“Master,” she said, “from what I understand, it may be possible for a cultivator to find common ground with a darkling. Just as cultivators strive to prevent the spread of darkness, they are capable of saving those teetering on the edge of corruption. For such harmony to occur, the cultivator must embody righteousness and compassion, while the darkling must possess the will to reject or cleanse the darkness that has overtaken its soul in favor of restoring balance.”
“Indeed,” Zhouyi said.
“This concept embodies the principle of yin and yang,” she continued. “Light and darkness are bound in an eternal cycle, each requiring the other to maintain equilibrium. Redemption requires mutual willingness, on one side to extend a hand, and on the other to grasp it.”
Master Zhouyi gave a small nod. “Well articulated, Miss Ying. Ultimately, it depends on the cultivator’s determination and the darkling’s willingness. When light seeks to comprehend shadow, and shadow seeks to coexist with light, possibility can emerge.”
From the side, Haoran spoke gently, though uncertainty lingered in his voice. “Master, does this mean that darklings, being part of this grand cycle, may also aspire to ascend? To seek the Dao as we do?”
Master Zhouyi’s gaze softened, though his words remained deliberate. “In theory, yes. All beings, regardless of origin, may seek the Dao.
Yet the path for darklings is fraught with obstacles, as their essence is intertwined with energies that resist it. To find common ground with such a being is not merely a matter of reason or will. It requires transcending essence itself. Few have attempted it, and fewer still have succeeded.”
His gaze deepened. “In practice, it is exceedingly rare for a darkling to return toward the light, for the pull of darkness is often too strong, drawing the soul deeper into corruption.”
Haoran’s nod was slow. The words stirred more questions than answers. His thoughts drifted again to Ling Feng, a dark spirit. A quiet doubt took root. Was Ling Feng merely a victim of circumstance, shaped by forces beyond his control, or something else entirely?
Another disciple raised a hand, their interruption breaking Haoran’s spiraling thoughts.
“Why is it only four and not six realms? Master, you have mentioned that darklings dwell within the Mortal, Spirit, Ghost, and Beast Realms. What about the Celestial or Demon Realm?”
Master Zhouyi’s expression tightened thoughtfully before he answered. “On the spectrum of power, beings from the four realms—Mortals, Ghosts, Spirits, and Beasts—each possess their own degrees of influence. But demons come closest to gods in sheer might and significance.
Why?
For souls that ascend, godhood represents the pinnacle of spiritual evolution, the highest rank of power and purity attainable. It is a state of divine enlightenment, where one becomes a beacon of cosmic order, wisdom, and strength, wielding control over the fabric of the universe.
Because Heaven is the highest elevation of the soul, once one ascends to the Celestial Realm, the soul is purified and sealed. It can never fall again. That is to say, a celestial cannot descend into the abyss.
In contrast, for those that fall, demonhood is the ultimate form of power, born from corruption and rebellion. It is a rank achieved through defiance and pride, embodying raw, destructive energy. While gods represent harmony and balance, demons represent the opposite: forces of disorder, destruction, and manipulation. Both states symbolize the extremes of a soul’s potential, whether ascending toward light or descending into darkness.
Darklings who fully succumb to darkness, rejecting redemption, reach demonhood, wielding overwhelming destructive power. They exist completely outside the realms of gods and celestials.”
Zhouyi was silent for a while. As the students murmured to one another, he let his words settle. Then he turned to Haoran, who did not murmur with the others.
“Cheng Haoran, to answer your question fully, I must be honest. It is nearly impossible to find common ground with a darkling because the essence of its existence is opposed to yours.
The more advanced your cultivation becomes, the brighter your yang energy burns, and the more violently a darkling’s corrupted yin energy will react. This is not something that can be reasoned with or bargained with. It is the result of what both of you have become. In rare cases, a darkling may be cleansed, but such an outcome is more a miracle than a choice.”
“Balance is fragile. While light and dark, yin and yang, must coexist, they can never merge without consequence. A cultivator of the yang path may attempt to understand or pity a darkling, but the corrupted aura will resist. It will feed on weakness, exploit openings, and eventually seek to drag the other into chaos.”
Zhouyi’s voice grew quieter, but its weight deepened. He turned to the entire class.
“If you are a cultivator of the yang path, know that your light exists to combat darkness, not compromise with it. By standing firm in your purpose, you preserve harmony, even if it means standing against beings who can no longer be saved.
To be a cultivator is to walk the path of light, no matter how lonely or unforgiving the battle becomes.”
The master finally gave a concluding remark:
“True understanding cannot come from theory alone. It must come through personal encounters with darklings, interactions with those who inhabit the gray area between light and dark.
The future of cultivators lies in this struggle, not just against outward forces, but against the darkness within. Thus, to truly understand darkness and light, one must face them directly and experience the challenge of maintaining balance in the turbulent cosmos.”