The evening settled over the city like a velvet cloak, draping the streets and alleys in the soft glow of twilight. The marketplace, once bustling with activity, had quieted down as the last of the vendors packed away their goods. The Mortal Tavern, however, was just beginning to come alive. Its dimly lit interior buzzed with the murmur of conversation, the clinking of tankards, and the occasional burst of laughter.
In his usual corner, Zui Tian sat, hunched over a table, the ever-present wineskin within easy reach. Tonight, he was more animated than usual, his hands gesturing as he spoke, his voice rising and falling with the cadence of a seasoned storyteller. The patrons nearby, who had become accustomed to his drunken ramblings, found themselves drawn in despite themselves, captivated by the strange rhythm of his words.
“…and so it begins,” Zui Tian intoned, his voice taking on a deeper, almost reverent tone. “From the Ruins of Preservation rise the Beginning of Void.”
The tavern seemed to still as he spoke, the usual clamor fading into the background. Even those who had initially ignored him found their attention slowly drawn to the enigmatic figure. There was something about his words—something ancient, something profound—that demanded to be heard.
“Void becomes Chaos. Chaos becomes Earth. Earth births Life,” Zui Tian continued, his eyes gleaming with a light that was not entirely of this world. He took a long drink from his wineskin, the liquid within glowing faintly, as if infused with the essence of the cosmos itself.
“Life becomes God,” he whispered, his voice barely above a breath, yet it carried through the room with eerie clarity. “God becomes Death. And Death… Death becomes Ruin.”
As he spoke, a heavy silence descended over the tavern. It was as if the very air had thickened, charged with an unseen energy that pressed down on everyone present. The patrons, who had been casually listening, now sat frozen, their eyes wide with a mixture of awe and fear. Zui Tian’s words resonated with a truth they couldn’t fully comprehend but felt deep in their bones.
Zui Tian paused, his gaze distant, as if looking beyond the walls of the tavern into some far-off place that only he could see. He seemed lost in the rhythm of the universal law he had just recited, a law that governed all things—from the smallest atom to the grandest of stars.
“From Ruin… comes Preservation,” he murmured, his voice barely audible. “And so the cycle continues… endlessly.”
Just as he finished speaking, the atmosphere in the tavern shifted. A cold breeze seemed to sweep through the room, despite the closed doors and windows. The flickering lanterns dimmed, their light struggling against an encroaching darkness. The patrons exchanged nervous glances, the unease they felt growing with each passing moment.
And then, from the shadows of the tavern, a figure emerged.
It was tall, clad in dark robes that seemed to absorb the light around it. The figure’s face was obscured by a hood, but there was no mistaking the aura it carried—an overwhelming, suffocating power that filled the room like a tangible force. The patrons closest to the figure recoiled instinctively, sensing the danger that radiated from it.
The figure moved with an eerie grace, gliding across the floor until it stood before Zui Tian. The tavern had fallen deathly silent, every eye fixed on the scene unfolding before them. The air was thick with tension, the sense of impending doom hanging over them like a dark cloud.
Then, slowly, deliberately, the figure lowered itself to one knee and bowed deeply before Zui Tian.
Gasps of shock rippled through the room. The patrons who had been brave enough to watch found themselves unable to breathe, their hearts pounding in their chests. This was no ordinary cultivator—this was a being of immense, unfathomable power. And yet, here it was, bowing in deference to the drunken figure who had, until this moment, been nothing more than a strange, rambling fixture in their lives.
Zui Tian looked down at the figure, his expression unreadable. For a long moment, he said nothing, merely regarding the powerful cultivator with a detached curiosity, as if contemplating the meaning of this gesture.
The figure spoke, its voice low and resonant, carrying the weight of countless lifetimes. “Great one… I have followed your words through the ages. I have searched the cosmos for the source of the wisdom that flows from your lips. I… have found you at last.”
The patrons could barely comprehend what they were hearing. To them, Zui Tian had always been just an old drunkard with a penchant for fantastical tales. But now… now it seemed there was far more to him than they could ever have imagined.
Zui Tian’s gaze softened slightly, a faint smile playing on his lips. “You should have stayed hidden,” he said softly, his voice laced with a mixture of amusement and resignation. “There are things better left undisturbed.”
The figure raised its head, though the hood still concealed its face. “Forgive me, great one, but I could not remain in the shadows while the truth lay within reach. I… am at your service. Command me, and I shall obey.”
Zui Tian took another sip from his wineskin, his thoughts turning inward. The appearance of this powerful shadow meant something, something significant. But in that moment, he couldn’t quite bring himself to care. He was tired—tired of the burdens that came with his existence, tired of the endless cycle of rise and fall, chaos and order.
He waved a hand dismissively. “Go,” he said, his tone gentle but firm. “Return to your place, and disturb me no more. There will be a time for you… but that time is not now.”
The shadow hesitated, clearly torn between its desire to serve and its respect for Zui Tian’s wishes. Finally, it bowed its head again. “As you command, great one,” it said, its voice tinged with reluctant obedience.
With that, the figure melted back into the shadows from which it had come, leaving the tavern in stunned silence. The patrons, who had been frozen in place, slowly began to stir, their minds struggling to process what they had just witnessed.
Zui Tian leaned back in his chair, letting out a long, slow breath. The energy in the room began to ease, the oppressive weight lifting as the shadow’s presence faded. He took another drink, feeling the warmth of the wine spread through him, dulling the sharp edges of his thoughts.
But even as he settled back into his drunken haze, a part of him remained alert, wary of what this encounter signified. The shadow’s arrival was a reminder—a reminder that the past could never be fully escaped, and that the universal law he had spoken of was always in motion.
Rise and fall. Chaos and order. Beginning and end.
Zui Tian closed his eyes, letting the wine carry him away, if only for a little while longer. He could deal with whatever was coming tomorrow. For tonight, he would allow himself to drift, to lose himself in the sweet oblivion of forgetfulness.
But even in his dreams, the cycle continued to turn.