The fisherman had been to the ends of every earth.
He had sailed the starry oceans, flowing from the blue heaven at the world where the Sun was eaten by a three headed demon god.
He had sailed through the shattered skies, remnants of a once glorious golden heaven shattered by a tormented hate upon its marriage with an endlessly growing rain of lightning.
Dead gods, warped truths, the extremities of coldness where no flux could exist. The nascent life that waits at the end of eternal death, proving the cycles true.
The gates where heaven had died, shielded by the shadows of a human emperor who's aspirations still burns traces of existence itself.
A long cooled star harboring great serpents.
Giant spears thrown by gluttonous monarchs, shattering the very star eggs of the leviathans. The great war.
Yet, to him, perhaps this moment held greater significance than all the sights he had seen in his endless pursuit (Dao). A tiny stream, diverging from the river of time. Where it would flow downstream, this tiny stream turned southward, perpendicular of it's brethren.
A needle sized hole in reality. A road of winds, of a sky stream only true for the ephemeral mortal creatures in the sky.
Dragons carve heavenly tunnels and traverse the skies with impunity and domination. Yet it would be no dragon that would've formed this stray, tiny path across time and space... but a little nascent soul.
'..What a tiny light.'
He thought that this soul was so, so fragile. Such that the mere reflections he had tried to fish on the waters in his mortal days weren't as easily broken.
Yet it was a light bright and blue. An apocyanic soul, of green and gold - the colours of the east where no traveler sails to, bathed in a shade of bright blue only known by the corals at the kingdom where the sun lie beneath the sea.
'But it's different'.
He had thought that he had found the end of the ้ (Dao) road then, yet it was nothing but a distant dream no different to the water reflections he made vanish so long ago.
This light however, was a tiny light of bright and blue.
It harbours a tiny wish, fragile but persevering, a wish for it to 'live'.
A wish only truly known and natural to the souls truly nascent. Not the false ascension births the souls of the immortal ไป (Xian) civilization would undergo after perfecting their golden core.
Because this wish, as with all true to ้ (Dao) could not be blessed upon oneself. It is the dearest wish only a mother could give to her offspring. The likes that the nine regions had given on its dying throes to a certain cow herding human emperor once, in another time and place.
Fisherman stroked the newborn body of the bright blue soul, safely nestled by the milky white starry river of this land forgotten by time.
Little Yang felt like he knew this man wearing a straw hat.
A familiar old soul of sorts.
'old soul...'
It knew this word. It knew the voice that said it with the same two intonations each and every time.
That familiar store, at the edge of the ocean. Heading to the 'east', the place he did not know where, but knew existed.
The coloured cloth placed by the old man actually felt like the .. fabric it wore in that very same dream.
Little yang had recently developed some stalks, fresh green in color just like the landscape all around it. Well, not really. Little Yang felt that the stalks are a much... 'brighter' color. Milky white. A bit like those of old parasol tree in the cloudy place up there.
The coloured cloth that wrapped around him felt warm, and little yang really liked the colour created from his milky white-green stalk and the cloth's colorful pink mixed. It was familiar to the beautiful flaming bird it saw in old parasol tree's abode back then.
All in all, little Yang has a very favorable impression of the man wearing a straw hat.
He shook in response and nestled its stalk against the man's face, reachable now since he was now sitting by the mound which Little yang was roosted.
"Hmm? Hehe. I don't remember the last time I saw such an active fella, especially not in this place where only the old and lazy rooted. Hm...
Tell me, how did you come here where no new life should be?"
The man took off his straw hat and took out a delicious smelling bag.
'!' Little Yang felt immediately invigorated by the amazing smell coming from the bag. It began restlessly smacking its stalk towards the bag.
'..!' The man, now without his straw hat placed the bag atop a weird curved stick, the same stick he had used to pull out the brown tattered stuff from the nearby waters.
The point was - the bag was now out of reach.
"Give me! Give! Give! Me!"
If what little Yang was previous doing was equivalent to slight shaking, he was now full on creating a mini earthquake, the likes he was creating when he was still a seed and smashing the mound to be suitable as his rooting place.
Jets of water shot out of his roots from the ground and began reaching towards the bag atop the curved stick. Little Yang's stalk began burning with a white flame - which too shot towards the bag.
"Hehe. So you can speak."
The man tossed the curved stick - and the bag - into the sky, far out of reach of the water or white flame.
".....!!!!!!!!!"
Little Yang was now outraged. He exerted himself...
...The ground was now quickly bursting with milky white streams, and the flowing water nearby gathered towards Little Yang's roots.
Boom!
From the ground, Little Yang shot out a large amount of stream which wrapped around his stalk.
The stalk, still burning with milky white flames responded and covered the stream with the flames, and they formed a pillar of milky white flame and steam - pressed down like an arrow and aimed towards the bag high in the sky.
The arrow pulled taut, the bowstring (roots) stretched to its limits, until the pillar shot into the sky - towards the bag and stick -
It came closer and closer, easily shooting hundreds of meters into the air -
Until finally -
*whisk!* The man produced another curved stick and pulled the bag away from the other curved stick in the sky with what looked like an invisible slice in the air, and little yang's arrow missed it's target!
'...no!'
Little Yang didn't want to let it end like this. He willed, and the Stream covered, blazing arrow quivered and burst apart!
He remembered. Water gathered towards the sky as heat turned them into vapors. These vapors gathered in the sky and turned into 'clouds', shaped like the milky white flame domain where the old parasol rested.
A cloud, made of the rejuvenating waters of the vast green condensed in the air, burning with milky white pure yang flames of little yang's own creation.
'..now!'
Little Yang thought back to the sights he had seen in his many visions and dreams. Atop that sea where everyone was heading east, he remembered those things in the sky. They looked like.. the bright red burning birds in the parasol's domain. And it remembered, that they swam the skies as freely as little Yang did as a droplet in the oceans.
The clouds turned into the shape of a bird, a misty formed bird burning with pure yang milky white flames.
"..Hoh! You really are.. special!" The fisherman grinned a wide, toothed (although many of his teeth were brittle and cracked) smile. He flicked his fingers, and tapped the curved stick. The invisible 'slice' in the air suddenly shined with a brilliant azure-cyan hue and the bag, hooked at the top of the now clearly visible line transformed into a shining white ball of light.
The ball of light split off from the line, and evaded the gaping mouth of the burning bird seeking towards it.
'...eeeee!!!!' Little Yang remembered. At some point it was taught this, or perhaps it's from a dream or a memory somewhere. He's feeling.. anger.
The bird maneuvered in the air and began chasing after the ball of light shooting away. It quickly sped up and turned into a burning white blur in the air, leaving a stream of flames.
The chase lasted for a while. Two lights of bright blue and white flame danced in the skies of the vast green landscape.
'..hmph!'
Suddenly, space froze and a burst of golden light enveloped the bird and the blue ball.
The golden light enveloped the two, and *shot* towards the fisherman.
The fisherman was at this point laughing like he hadn't done in millenia. He was enjoying dodging the roots shooting towards him and the stalk desperately trying to grab at him regardless of the jets of water and white flames bursting chaotically around.
He immediately noticed the golden meteor quickly approaching.
"Oh... oh sh!t"
The fisherman jumped high in the air.
*Whisk!* A root managed to tug at his pants before he made his escape, and the fisherman's pants tore away, leaving his lower half to be displayed splendidly in the skies.
"f*ck!"
He smashed the air and created a crack in space, from which a simple boat burst through.
The fisherman got on the boat and quickly sped towards the horizon, within moments looking like a star speck in the skies.
The golden light stopped for a moment above little Yang. It dropped the blue light captured inside of it towards the little sproutling, now completely rampaging and agitatedly tearing apart the pants of the fisherman, before speeding away in chase of the fisherman.
----------
Far above, a certain Bodhi tree shining with golden light revealed the visage of a beautiful monk in a meditative pose.
The monk was originally resting her eyes in peace and quiet until a certain unwelcome visitor came by. When it began to bully a baby seedling and teased it with a bag of primordial earth she decided to chase away the fisherman.
At this moment, the monk looked very amused, although her eyes remained closed. She 'looked' towards the little seedling which managed to create a divine messenger beast while still being in its infancy, although the monk was more impressed that it managed to whisk away the pants of the old fisherman.
She then looked towards the now pantless fisherman, speeding away in disgrace. The monk's face at this point showed a vindicated - almost smug - smirk
She muttered in a barely discernible voice, "Fisherman... go away".