A Void for Eternity: BL

Last week had been a storm of punishments for Liu Weishan. The heavens, ever watchful, did not forget the mischief of the young God of Water, especially his near catastrophe at the sacred lake. Had the dormant spirit of Liang Cai been awakened, chaos would have been unleashed upon the Celestial Realm once more. Liang Cai had been imprisoned for over a century by the Celestial Emperor, and he was a force the gods preferred to keep at a safe distance. Any proximity between Liu Weishan and him stirred unrest among the deities.

Now, free from his punitive duties, Liu Weishan found himself before the lake at the city's center once again. The golden lotus, from which he had emerged, remained as imposing as ever. Its petals gleamed like molten gold, pristine and untouched. Surrounding it, smaller lotuses swayed to the rhythm of the gentle breeze that carried the distant scent of flowers.

Liu Weishan gazed at the golden lotus with an irritation he couldn't quite place. He despised passing through that spot, as it left him feeling powerless, unsure of which direction to take in life. Stories claimed that the lotus held the secrets of his divine essence, but to Weishan, it seemed as useless as a locked door without a key.

Liu Weishan kicked a small stone on the ground, and it glimmered softly before disappearing into the lake's waters. He paid no mind to its fate. His thoughts were distant, lost in speculation about what lay ahead. Since his rebirth, he had endured endless training and cultivated powers he barely understood.

All of it was meant to shape him into the God of Water, or so they said. But how could one mold themselves without understanding the shape of their own existence? It was better to forget and begin freeing himself from his frustrations. Harboring such conflicting thoughts was truly vexing, and he no longer wanted to live this way. Once he completed his six years of training, he would finally be free to roam wherever he wished, unbound by rules or restrictions that curtailed his longed-for adventures.

In the Celestial Realm, Liu Weishan was a solitary figure by nature. Though his status as the newborn of the golden lotus placed him under the watchful eyes of many, few dared to approach him, viewing him as a troublemaker. Among celestial officials, he exchanged occasional words with those who saw in him a worthy God of Water — and indeed, he was, having created new techniques despite his limited knowledge. However, these interactions were always formal and laced with respectful distance.

His circle of interaction was narrow. Mei Xuanling, austere and enigmatic, was both a guide and guardian, her words always shrouded in mysteries he was too lazy to unravel. There was also the Celestial Emperor himself, whose patience seemed unshakable. Occasionally, Zhao Mingye invited him for games of Go, perhaps attempting to understand the peculiar child better. Yet Liu Weishan remembered little of their conversations, as his mind often wandered like a drifting wind, scattering words like leaves in the breeze.

Even amid the grandeur of the Celestial Realm, his loneliness was boundless. The vastness of the skies seemed to amplify the emptiness in his heart, and the bonds he was supposed to forge remained, for now, distant promises made by those who observed him from afar without grasping the chaotic essence he carried. But Mei Xuanling always assured him that soon, his solitude would be filled by destiny. His journey would not be undertaken without the aid of allies who would fight and die by his side at any cost.

Liu Weishan stared at the lake before him, watching the reflection of the clouds on the mirrored surface. Taking a deep breath, he raised his left hand, attempting to shape the water with fluid movements. The liquid hesitated before responding, forming small whirlpools that rose into a wavering column. He tried to stabilize it, but his concentration slipped like sand through his fingers, and the water collapsed back into the lake, dispersing ripples that disturbed its illusory calm.

The technique he practiced was one of the most basic in the Compendium of the Water Brocade King, a legendary manual said to contain secrets capable of dividing seas and skies. Even so, these techniques required absolute precision, and Liu Weishan, though a recognized genius, was infamous for his disastrous lack of control. He was already known as the King of Disasters.

His reputation as a bringer of chaos was not undeserved. During an early attempt at practice, he destroyed the Temple of the Fire Master by summoning an uncontrolled torrent that flooded the entire structure. It was a cruel irony: while water was supposed to be his ally, it seemed to prefer to toy with him, like a domesticated tiger that occasionally revealed its claws.

Another, even more memorable, incident occurred near the Forest of the Nine Fragrant Mists. During a spiritual channeling exercise, Liu Weishan accidentally broke the seals that kept the spiritual creatures at rest. An army of enchanted beasts emerged, causing chaos and invading the center of the celestial city. The destruction culminated in the collapse of the Lunar Fountain, one of the Celestial Realm's greatest treasures, belonging to the Moon Goddess. Her gaze still weighed upon him like a storm cloud ready to break.

These disasters, though unintentional, marked every step of his progress. Despite everything, the Celestial Emperor observed from afar with unshakable patience. "Even the storm needs time to find its harmony," he once said. Yet, for Liu Weishan, balance seemed as distant a goal as the last star on the horizon.

Jinlan Shuiyi sat at the edge of the lake, a sigh escaping his lips like a weary breeze. With his chin resting on his hand, he picked up a smooth stone and cast it toward the lake, watching it skip across the surface with a mischievous smile until it was swallowed by the lake's silence.

He continued tossing stones until a distinct sound disrupted the rhythm. Thok. This time, the stone did not sink immediately. Weishan frowned, leaning forward. What he saw made him recoil instantly.

There, amidst the white lotuses, something stirred. A lustrous shell emerged lazily, large as an ancient jade basin, followed by a wrinkled head that seemed to carry ages of patience — and a hint of annoyance.

It was a large, old turtle. Slowly, it opened its eyes, staring at Weishan as if analyzing a particularly noisy insect. Liu Weishan, wide-eyed, swallowed hard. Before he could mutter an apology, the turtle tilted its head slightly and spoke in an unexpectedly eccentric voice:

"Ah! Finally! Do you have any idea how much trouble you've caused me? I searched for you everywhere — climbed hills, descended valleys. All right, maybe i exaggerated a bit. But do you know what i found in the end? Nothing. That's right, nothing! So, i thought, 'You know what? I'll take a nap and try my luck later.' And look who shows up, hitting me with a stone in the middle of my sleep! You! Honestly, boy, your aim is as bad as your luck."

Liu Weishan, stunned and still sitting on the ground, blinked a few times, as if expecting to wake up from a particularly strange dream. The old turtle, however, stared at him with the confidence of someone who knew exactly the impact they caused — and seemed to enjoy it.

Liu Weishan rose hesitantly, keeping his eyes fixed on the massive turtle that slowly emerged from the lake like a moving mountain. Dusting off his clothes in an attempt to regain a composure he never truly had, he asked warily:

"Who are you?" He took a few steps back. "Look, if you're one of the celestial officials playing a prank to get back at me, you'd better stop right here... I'm not afraid of you!" he said, trying to mask his nervousness.

The turtle snorted, a deep sound that echoed like muffled thunder, as it dragged its heavy shell along the shore, leaving a damp trail in the earth. Its presence was majestic. His instinct was to scream. However, as a celestial cultivator should, he managed to restrain himself, though the trembling of his hands betrayed his supposed calm.

The turtle paused a few steps ahead, moving leisurely. Then, in a tone blending arrogance and excitement, it began to speak:

"Me? I'm Wu Hao, at least as far as i can remember…" it proclaimed with pride that suggested the name alone should be enough to move heavens and seas. "Apparently, i'm known here as the Sage of the Mountain, or Master of a Thousand Forms. I'm always traveling in different shapes, so…"

Liu Weishan blinked, trying to process the barrage of titles.

"Anyway," Wu Hao sighed, sounding bored, "I'm here because i felt the call of the golden lotus. It — the one that birthed you — is restless. It told me your mind is as blocked as a frozen river in the peak of winter. That you will never understand the fundamentals of the God of Water until your soul is in balance. So here i am, to open your mind. Or at least try, because from what i see, it'll be as difficult as moving a mountain!"

Liu Weishan swallowed hard, questioning what exactly he had done to deserve this.

Wu Hao raised his heavy shell in a slow, majestic motion. He observed Liu Weishan with a wise gaze, appearing annoyed by something.

"Ah, the discomfort… You have no idea how hard it is to maintain this form for so long," Wu Hao grumbled, shaking his shell slightly, which seemed to bear the weight of three centuries of fatigue. "I was peacefully sleeping on Mount Kunlun, resting for three hundred years, and then — BAM! That golden lotus decided to wake me up, demanding i come to help you! But here's the problem: i completely forgot how to transform back into my human form."

Liu Weishan stared at the sage with a mixture of fascination and unease. The idea of someone forgetting how to shapeshift seemed absurd, but before Wu Hao, anything seemed possible.

Wu Hao closed his eyes and tilted his head slightly, as if straining to recall something locked away in a mental chest sealed centuries ago. He muttered incomprehensible words, and his shell glowed faintly with a mystical aura.

"Ah, yes, of course", he suddenly said, stomping one of his talons on the ground as if he had just solved a complicated puzzle. "Now i remember! A simple invocation... how could i have forgotten that?"

He focused, and then, in an instant, his form began to shine with an intense light. The shell dissolved into a golden mist, while his body elongated and gained human contours. When the light finally dissipated, there stood Wu Hao, now in the form of an imposing elderly man.

He had white hair that flowed like snow melting in the wind, deep and wise eyes that seemed to contain the secrets of the universe, and pale skin marked with wrinkles. And a long white beard.

"Ah, much better!", Wu Hao exclaimed, stretching his arms and rolling his shoulders. "Now i can breathe like a decent being again! So, boy, you must be the one whose fate was so noisy it managed to interrupt my slumber. Well, i suppose it's time to resolve your block before you cause more trouble."

Liu Weishan stood still for a moment, studying Wu Hao's figure. He felt the weight of his doubts and fears, but instead of retreating, he let out a soft sigh, accepting what fate had in store for him.

For so long, he had tormented himself over his lack of progress, over his apparent inability to fully control the power he knew resided within him. Now, the possibility of finally overcoming this block was a temptation too enticing to ignore.

His gaze faltered for a moment, but then he fixed it on the wise old man before him, his determination renewed. If this strange encounter was the key to unlocking the true potential of his cultivation, then he was willing to take the risk. After all, what sense was there in fearing the unknown when the greatest fear came from within himself?

"Could this be it?" Weishan thought, clenching his fists unconsciously. "Could I finally use all of my cultivation? Could I finally be worthy of the title God of Water?"

The frustration he felt over his own block began bubbling up again, but this time it turned into a flame of expectation. He couldn't let this chance slip away, no matter how surreal the situation seemed. Wu Hao, noticing Liu Weishan's expression, tilted his head slightly and let out a brief chuckle, as if he already knew exactly what was going through the young man's mind. The flame of a genius always burned this way — confused, furious, and eager to expand.

"So, Jinlan Shuiyi", the sage said with a calmness that seemed to defy time itself. "Let's open that door that has troubled you so much. I just need to touch your forehead with the Divine Touch and unlock the infinite space within your mind. Every cultivator has their own hidden world, which expands as their cultivation level grows."

"Will it hurt?", Liu Weishan asked, clenching his hands tighter.

"I don't remember. You'll be left to your own luck now. If your talent truly is as extraordinary as they say, it won't take long", he scratched his head and glanced at the sky, likely pondering something he couldn't recall.

Wu Hao didn't hesitate for an instant. With a motion as quick as it was unexpected, he extended his hand and touched Liu Weishan's forehead. The Divine Touch was straightforward, unceremonious. The young cultivator didn't even have time for a flicker of doubt before feeling himself pulled by an incomprehensible force. It was like being sucked into a black hole, a spiral of dense and irresistible energy that wrenched him out of reality.

Weishan tried to resist, but it was useless. The sensation of falling seemed endless, a journey with no direction or end. Finally, after what felt like an eternity compressed into seconds, he opened his eyes to find himself in a vast expanse of absolute darkness. There was no ground beneath his feet, no sky above his head. Everything around him was a formless, boundless void, devoid of sound.

He took a hesitant step, fearing he might plummet into that groundless darkness. Yet he didn't fall. It was like floating in a sea of nothingness. "Wu Hao!" he shouted, and his voice echoed, lost in the abyss.

There was no response. He called out again, more urgently this time. "Wu Hao! Where are you? What's happening?"

After an unsettling silence, the old sage's voice finally emerged, echoing through the vastness like a soft thunder laden with wisdom:

Jinlan Shuiyi, your mind is like a mountain shrouded in dense mist. Within it, there are barriers erected by fear, pride, and doubt. Break them, and you will see the clear flow of the river of your essence. Fail, and you will be forever lost in this void you have created.

Wu Hao could do little more than guide Liu Weishan; he couldn't force a quick entry into his consciousness without risking destroying his mind. Meanwhile, in the outside world, Wu Hao was entirely at ease. He had settled onto a large, smooth stone near the lake, sitting cross-legged in a relaxed posture. His wise eyes observed Liu Weishan, whose body remained motionless, seated in a lotus position. A light breeze stirred Wu Hao's white hair, and a barely perceptible smile formed on his lips.

"Let this little genius's flame either shine or fade", he murmured to himself, "it is now up to his own skill.

Wu Hao was absorbed in his thoughts and in observing Liu Weishan, but his keen ears caught the sound of firm, serene footsteps approaching from behind. He turned his head slightly and met the piercing gaze of Zhao Mingye, the Celestial Emperor. The air around Mingye seemed to carry an aura of unparalleled authority, yet there was something in his expression that Wu Hao, with his wisdom, could discern as unease.

"How is Liu Weishan's progress?", Zhao Mingye asked in a calm tone, laden with expectation.

Wu Hao, utterly unhurried, raised a wine gourd he retrieved from his robe — an artifact worn by time but still reliable for his daily needs. He took a long sip, savoring every drop, before responding with great disinterest:

"I don't know", he said, leaning casually against the stone he was seated on. "It will depend entirely on him. There are no shortcuts to enlightenment, nor guarantees of success."

Zhao Mingye frowned, his gaze shifting momentarily to the young man immersed in a trance. Despite his immense wisdom and power, a shadow of doubt seemed to linger over him. However, he soon dispelled his thoughts with a faint sigh and refocused.

Wu Hao, now with a more serious expression, set the gourd aside and fixed his sharp eyes on the Emperor. With a voice heavy with intent, he asked:

When do you intend to tell young Jinlan Shuiyi that you are his father in this life?

The Celestial Emperor remained motionless, but his eyes seemed to harden as if faced with a question he had rehearsed countless times in his mind. He shook his head slowly and replied, his voice calm like the waters of a deep lake:

It is unnecessary. It will depend on fate.

Wu Hao didn't avert his gaze but raised an eyebrow in disdain. Zhao Mingye continued, now with a more melancholic tone:

The golden lotus is the divine transformation of Liu Yunxiao, my late wife. Her spirit transformed to protect what was left of her lineage. Jinlan Shuiyi's destiny does not belong to me. It will belong only to him. Once the six-year limit is over, he will have the freedom he so desires.

Wu Hao scoffed, picking up his gourd again. He took another long sip of wine, letting the strong, bitter taste comfort him, as it always did. Known for both his sharp wit and eccentricity, Wu Hao also had a profound love for wine and simplicity. His worn brown robes always contrasted with his celestial splendor. Those who knew him well also knew of his peculiar preference for assuming the form of a crane — a figure that, in some way, encapsulated his mysterious and independent personality.

But there was also a terrible past he preferred to keep in the shadows. He hated looking at Liu Weishan and being reminded of those he had lost. Wu Hao once lived in the mortal realm as the master of a great sect, whose name he could no longer even recall. He had lost everything — his beloved wife and son — to the hands of a Great Demon who brought calamity to the world a thousand years ago. And realizing that Jinlan Shuiyi would never know that Zhao Mingye was his father filled him with pain and resentment for the son he had lost.

"Fate, fate…" Wu Hao murmured, as if speaking to himself or perhaps mocking the concept. "The chains of fate are just that: chains. They can be broken… or strengthened."

With that, he settled back once more, his gaze fixed on the young man sitting on the ground, while Zhao Mingye stood silently a few steps behind him, immersed in thoughts that perhaps even the heavens could not decipher.

To be continued...