What even is Justice, and why is it sung such high praises to?
There are countless worlds without any substantial difference between individuals' fighting strength. In those kinds of places, Justice is employed as a contract: an individual gives up on their own right to harm others and, in exchange, others won't have the right to harm them either.
In the end, everything is about profit, even Justice.
All is about having as many gains with as little loss as possible, and Justice is but a protection; a mean.
However, in a world where people can fly through the air as fast as the wind and collapse mountain peaks with a touch of a finger… such a mean becomes useless!
In a case like this, then either a supreme power acts up to try to uphold such 'Justice', or the world becomes a world where the strong prey upon the weak, the weak prey upon the weaker, and the strong fear the stronger.
But then again, if one is supreme, why bother lay the groundwork so that the ants below them don't fight each other to the death? What makes some ants better than others, making them worthy to be saved? In fact, why bother about the ants at all when there would always be more ants born to replace those that died!
Having to go to great lengths all to uphold 'Justice' for the weak and vulnerable, simply doesn't have enough incentive to outweighs the benefits one would gain were they to directly steal from them instead.
Xu Ling himself had once entertained this certain train of thoughts and had written it down as the 'Tale of the Executioner'.
This one story starts when, one day, a mortal is indignant towards the Heavens for the murder of his wife and three children and demands an explanation for why the deities there hadn't upheld justice and saved them.
Surprisingly, the Heavens do respond, and this mortal is selected to carry out the duty of the deity and judge murderers' rights and wrongs for a million years. Ultimately, he would also have the final choice of judging and executing the deity itself.
The puny mortal whom had lost his wife and three kids was therefore selected to judge the rights and wrongs of the world with absolute might.
In his hands, he was given a pen and parchment, an unbreakable chain, and an executioner's blade to carry out his judgment.
No explanations were uttered from the deity, as it merely watched on as the mortal took its place and acted according to his own beliefs and thoughts.
At that time, the indignant mortal was truly angered and was looking forward to being able to judge the deity that hadn't saved his family with his own hands.
…
The first time the mortal judged a murderer, he slew them in cold blood with the executioner's blade!
"This person, who has committed such grave crimes, does not deserve to live after having hurt so many others…"
"Death for death!"
Like so, he executed many more for ten years…
And yet, countless more were left.
…
On the eleventh year, the mortal had an epiphany and lowered the executioner's blade, stained in so much blood it had turned a fiery red: after those ten, long years of killing and death, his anger had finally dissipated, leaving behind only sorrow.
By that point, he had realized that the people he would kill would also be very much missed by others if they died, just like he himself was now missing his family. "A world where others suffer for the wrongs of one can't possibly be just! Instead of killing the captives, I shall bound them with the unbreakable chain and let their families visit them, in the hope they shall reflect on their wrongs!" As a fellow 'hurt' human, he ultimately laid the executioner's blade at rest
"Pity for pain!"
Like so, for eighty-nine years, he imprisoned one evildoer after another…
And yet still, the flow of evil did not stop, as even more awaited.
…
On the hundredth year, the mortal let go of the chains and picked up pen and parchment instead: instead of binding the criminal, he wrote them a labor to be done before they could be freed. After witnessing countless lives and wrongs flash before his eyes he had realized something very important…
And that was that, by the time of his judgment, the crime had already been committed, and the world had thus incurred an irreparable loss!
"A world where others' wrongs remain even after they are judged, is unjust for everyone else that abides by the law! As such, if I am to uphold justice, then I must have the wrongdoer repent by giving the wounded world something back!"
"Repayment for pain!"
Like so, over a period of ninety hundred years, countless edicts were signed, sending the countless villains to labour …
And yet again, even after a thousand years of work, the river of villainy and unjustness showed no sign of stopping.
…
Like that, a thousand years had passed since the mortal had first picked up the executioner's blade. And this time, facing the umpteenth murderer before him, the pen that hadn't stopped even once over the course of centuries was finally placed back down. After all this time, he had ultimately come to the conclusion that, in the end, no amount of work would be as precious as a life…
"A world where a debt isn't repaid can only be unfair and the polar opposite of just; evil! As such, only through condemning the evildoer to eternal imprisonment, a life worse than the death they inflicted upon their victim, will I be able to carry out a fair judgment…"
"Pain for death!"
Like so, he bound the villainous mortals before him…
And while countless suffered, even more were brought before that lonely mortal, his unbreakable chain, and his wavering spirit…
…
Ten thousand years passed just like that… and this time, the mortal judge picked up the dull blade laying on the floor, covered in dirt and dust, and slew the rapist before him with the executioner's blade.
Witnessing how life would go on even within suffering, and how man could find a spark of joy and happiness even amidst utter sadness and pain, he had once again come to realize the importance of life, countless times over.
"A world where even evil can be bestowed with such a grand gift… is evil itself. Only by depriving evildoers of it I may judge the criminals fairly…"
"Void… for void."
Like so, the blade tasted the blood of trillions, such that death itself was dyed scarlet…
…
At last, on the hundredth thousandth year of his labour, the mortal actually let off the murderer brought before him off, scot-free.
Witnessing first-hand life and death for so long, he had ultimately come to realize that if it truly was as he had thought and every single life was a treasure independent of worth, then nothing truly distinguished a good life from a bad one when placed before death.
"In a world where good and evil are interchangeable at the whims of the judge… good and evil actually cease to mean anything."
No life needed be judged, for there was no reason to: right and wrong were interchangeable and malleable, and like so judgment could not be carried out.
And like so, he freed all 'evildoers' from all shackles and restrictions. After that, he lived alone with an executioner's blade in hand for nine-hundred and ninety-thousand years, watching on as the world below him went on as if nothing had ever happened.
He witnessed empires rise atop the bodies of countless on one day, only to become stepping stones to the greatness of another on the next. People rose and were labeled heroes and villains, but remained mere mortals whose fate lined up with the needs of the world; a need for a leading figure to appear in one among countless acts of one among countless other plays.
And as the lone mortal witnessed the justice he had valued so much be useless in the grand scheme of things, he started getting more and more tired as the years passed, more and more emotionless… less and less human, and more and more like a cog; one that was aware, sure, but a mere piece of machinery in the eternal machine of all creation.
…
And eventually, as the mortal finally witnessed an umpteenth sunset from above the clouds, the million-year pact came to and end.
At that time, the deity once again appeared before the mortal and asked the question to which he already knew the answer, "Do you now finally understand why neither the Heavens nor I upheld justice way back when and did not save your family?"
And indeed, the mortal had understood… for he had realized that if to uphold justice he had to infringe it first, that to right a wrong life he had to wrong the life of many others, that there was no such thing as good and evil in the world, then that 'Justice' that claimed otherwise and boasted to be able to distinguish good from evil, was actually the greatest hypocrisy, the sole true evil itself!
"A mere thought in a fleeting dream; eventually all shall be forgotten. A boat down an endless rapid; once it capsizes, be it emperor, hero, villain, or servant, all shall drown and be left behind."
"On and on, forever… A world where life has no meaning but to fuel itself and become fuel in turn; a vicious cycle of empty words and false promises that eventually shall culminate in the void. All I can do now… is to right the wrong of Existence." The mortal turned towards the divine being beside him and the executioner' blade flashed; a smiling avian head flew in an arc, and the beautiful feathers adorning it scattered into nothingness…
In the end, the mortal executed the deity.
After that, came the world of the mortals: all was cut apart and vanished.
After that, the Heavens were cleaved. After that came Death, and Time, and Space… and, eventually, the blade turned against the last existence remaining: the mortal himself.
In his last moment, the mortal nodded, "It is because there is no such thing as judging, for good and evil do not exist… nor does anything truly exist as long as it can be obliterated. All that will remain shall be the executioner's blade, for nothing can execute an executioner's blade without becoming the executioner's blade itself."
And indeed, all that was left after the mortal had executed everything was an executioner's blade, atop which, after a countless amount of lives had been reaped, had finally been engraved the answer to how should a life have any meaning.
And the answer was…
"To be a life so great that even after being executed by the executioner's blade, they would be able to wield the blade and read this very answer themselves, with their own eyes: you shall then have become eternal, and meaningful!"
To become Immortal and Undying… so much so that the executioner's blade will lose its meaning as well and, unable to carry out its own meaning, shall vanish. And like so, only the Immortal will be left; he alone will remain as the one that TRULY executed the executioner's blade, yet did not execute the executioner's blade.
And at that that time, one WOULD become meaning itself.
…
As the group of six cultivators wearing black, white-striped robes approached, Cheng Hao did not even bother turning around as his golden eyes lit up dangerously.
"I sincerely advise you not to step closer than three feet from me, Seniors. You might not be able to live to tell the tale. We need not clash here, but if we do, you will be killed. This is not a threat from a foolish kid, nor a bluff… merely the wish of the strong not to stain his fangs with the blood of the weak. Consider it some sort of pride, or even goodwill. On the premise that you leave this Beast Forest, I might even consider repaying you somehow. Now that I have warned you all, I hope you won't disappoint and make the wrong choice…"
"…" The group of six ensued no reply and merely approached step by step as the child spoke.
Cheng Hao himself ignored the group as soon as he had finished his speech and was about to stand up and leave when the six exchanged glances and charged towards him at the same time.
Seeing that Cheng Hao didn't react even as they attacked, their smiles grew even wider, thinking they had correctly called the other's bluff. When they had kicked off the ground, the six had been about five feet from the child.
Then, it became four feet.
Three feet and half…
Slowly but surely, yet extremely quickly to the observer, the six finally entered upon the ominous range of three feet from Cheng Hao's body. At this point, the aura like that of an ancient predator was released as the opaque, golden pill in Cheng Hao's consciousness swiftly rotated and the mighty pressure of the Advanced Stage Pseudo-Core was revealed!
At this point, the Basic Stage cultivators finally noticed something was wrong, atrociously wrong!
However, by then it was far too late to respond.
Their body suddenly began to wither at horrifying speed visible to the naked eye as soon as they stepped over the three-foot mark.
Following their bodies' momentum, the group of six couldn't help but move towards Cheng Hao, but the closer they went, the faster the withering became. More than simply the process of withering, this looked a lot more like that of harvesting, of devouring straight from the source, as if a massive mouth were inhaling and sucking the nutrients straight out of their bodies.
And indeed, Cheng Hao was absorbing those people's fleshly body with the Golden Aura, the 'Internal Aura Manipulation Through Forceful Absorption' Technique! The technique forcefully turned everything around it into its own furnace and made them process themselves, leaving behind only nutrients for the wielder to feast upon.
This… was the method of the Evil Saint, Juggernaut of the battlefields! A mere group of Basic Stages wished to fight against his Advanced Stage cultivation and Golden Aura?
"Weak, simply too weak!" Cheng Hao shook his head. "Your executioner's blades couldn't reach me, and as such I stay Immortal, AND Righteous, AND Meaningful! The strength and power to defend one's ideals is the answer!"
And as those words echoed in the silent clearing, six piles of dried-up bones fell to the ground with a dull *thud*…
# # #
Author's Note: this is my understanding of cultivation. As childish as it may seem, in my eyes it is the essence, the background that any cultivation story should have.
ANY story that focuses on immortals, the path to immortality and cultivators, and yet doesn't touch upon these themes is just LAZY, COPY&PASTE STORYTELLING.
Any MC in those revenge 'stories' that just shouts at the heavens about how they didn't uphold justice, and later doesn't undergo an arc where he comes to understand this much, or at least a bit of it, is either a genius work of SATIRE or a lazy, selfish, and NARCISSISTIC piece of fiction written on a whim.
And of course, this is just the beginning, as I'm nowhere near stupid or narcissistic enough myself to believe this to be the end of where this trail leads: this train of thought goes on and on, and the ones who have got the furthest are the ones that we, whether subconsciously or knowingly, herald as TRUE writers of Xianxia.
Do I deem myself a god such as them?
No. Not at all. Heck, if I were, why would I have to read others' novels instead of just entertaining myself with the worlds in my head?
However, I at least reached a point on that long road where I can finally nod my head and confidently tell people: "Yes, I am an Author... and I write Eastern Fantasy."
~ Cookie