The wind whipped around Zhuding as he fell, the waterfall's spray stinging his face. He looked up at the ledge above, at the quickly shrinking Hedao peering down at him. Zhuding was quickly picking up speed, flipping head over heels. Icy panic began to grip his chest.
He hadn't expected that Hedao would try to murder him. Looking back, maybe he should have. Hedao had told him to let go, and so he had. He was quickly regretting that decision.
In that moment, Zhuding experienced a strange contradiction: he fell impossibly quickly, yet the shallow pool beneath him rushed up towards him at a crawl. His mind raced, looking for a way out, distancing itself from the knowledge that there was none. Try as he might, he knew he was facing death. The tightness in his chest became a dagger as it settled in. He was going to die.
This couldn't be all he had lived for. Years and years of monotonous, mindless labor, of a cruel and berating father, of a greedy lord who exploited his people instead of leading them. He had finally found a way out, then the one who gave it to him took it away just as quickly. He was going to die, and he was never once free.
As he fell, acknowledged that this was the end, the world around him slowed, came into focus. The water spray all around him hung in the air, undulating droplets refracting the light, making the air itself seem to glow. The waterfalls walling in the stone pillar shone with the reflected light from the sun above, casting complex shadows onto the clear, shallow pool below him. That sheet of stone and water would come up to meet him in only a few seconds now, and there was nothing he could do to prevent it. He was going to die, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.
Strangely, this realization brought comfort. The icy dagger of panic in his chest eased and evaporated as he accepted his fate. He wasn't happy with how his life had turned out, but it wasn't up to him. The decisions he had made couldn't be changed any more than the water flowing down into the pool could be sent back up. The past was in the past, and the future was now out of his hands.
As he relaxed and prepared to meet the end, he closed his eyes and felt his spirit as Hedao had showed him just minutes ago. He focused on his dantian, the deep pool where his spirit rested. His clinging to life lessened and lessened as the desire to live became more and more insignificant. Retreating from life, his mind rested in that pool of spirit – calm, warm, vital.
In that moment, he understood what Hedao had truly meant when he had told him to let go. He hadn't wanted Zhuding to let himself fall – he had wanted him to release control at the most primal, foundational level.
With that thought, the last threads of Zhuding's connection to life evaporated.
As though a dam burst, the calm, warm pool of spirit in Zhuding's dantian suddenly exploded out, radiating to every inch of his body. It was a torrent, a whitewater rapid, a current so fast it threatened to sweep him under. Rivers of fire and ice boiled his blood and froze his bones, a hail of needles pricking his skin, life and death swirling, immiscible, flowing through him. It was as terrible as it was beautiful.
Zhuding convulsed, time regaining its meaning, the shallow pool below rushing up with a renewed urgency. The misty waterfall spray swirled around him, mirroring the circulating torrent within him. Life was so beautiful, so sweet. He twisted in the air, feet meeting the water's surface with a boom, the wave creating a circle of damp stone that Zhuding landed on with a crunch of bones breaking. Zhuding cried out, not knowing if it was in surprise at surviving or at the searing pain of his broken legs complementing the flood of spirit. He collapsed faceup, water rushing back into place. He looked up at the ledge far above as the shallow water covered his chest and legs, Hedao no longer visible peering down at him.
Abruptly, the river within him felt wrong. With the danger past, having such a powerful force within himself out of his control was deeply troubling. He attempted to clamp down on it, to take control, but as soon as he attempted to direct its flow, the flood drained to a trickle. The sudden lack of spirit left him feeling drained, empty.
Careful of disturbing his legs, he carefully, wearily sat up in the pool, looking around him. He was in a damp cavern, the majority of the water from the falls flowing out to unseen aquifers. The massive stone pillar, smooth sides worn away by the centuries of water flowing over it, towered in front of him. The cavern was lush, if dim, with ferns and mosses coating every surface not flooded. The curtains of water formed an arc, nearly a full circle, around him. The part in the veil of water revealed a cozy niche in the cavern, coated in moss, where someone had brought modest furniture. A small stone table was flanked by two wooden stools, upon one of which Hedao sat sipping from a teacup.
"Very nearly impressive, Zhuding." Hedao remarked, resting the cup on the table. "You were able to release it for a moment, at least. You could have kept it, had you not seized back control like a scared animal."
Zhuding stared at him blankly for a moment. This man was insane. "What the fuck was that?" he asked bluntly. "I could have died. Hell, I very nearly did die! And my legs are shattered as it is!" he breathed in sharply, remembering the pain in his legs. They throbbed, white-hot and sharp. "It's over for me. I can't work like this. My mother is going to be thrown out and starve."
"Cease your whining." Hedao cut him off sharply. "Those wounds you can easily heal in just a few days. Besides that, you were never in any danger of dying. No one can cling so strongly to life until the very last moment." Hedao eyed him searchingly. "Though you did come surprisingly close."
Zhuding opened his mouth to bite back, then closed it, smoldering. Days, he said. He would be down here for days. Surely, he wouldn't be missed in the fields, where every farmer's contribution was closely monitored by that the haughty noble son. And heal a broken leg, two, in only a few days? It was impossible. He looked up at the strange 'blacksmith'. He thought he was his friend – then that 'friend' threw him off of a cliff. He couldn't trust him anymore – but he would submit to this man for a time, sadistic as he was, if it got him out of here. Hedao met his gaze with an amused smile and glittering eyes. He picked up his cup and took another sip.
"Broken legs and lost control aside, you did reasonably well for your first time. There was no way you could have done perfectly – you lack experience handling your spirit – but you will learn, in time. Your physical strength has improved enough that you can begin learning to cultivate." He gestured at Zhuding's legs, smiled mischievously. "And your… impairment… presents a good opportunity for your first lesson. You must push the spirit from your dantian towards your legs, circulate it, nourish the body with spirit." He took out a pipe, stuffed it, and tapped the stem on his forehead before lighting it with a flint. "This requires a strong connection between your body and mind. The stronger this connection, the easier it will be for you to control the spirit's flow. I recommend you take much care to develop that link before attempting to move forward – you'll spare yourself much pain. The more nourishment your legs receive, the faster they will mend." He blew a smoke ring, admired the falls, and stood. "I'll be waiting for your return. Good luck."
Zhuding gaped, cold surprise washing over him. "Wait, you're leaving me here? I can't move, I'll starve down here! How can you just leave?" But Hedao ignored him, and began to disappear behind the falls. "Hedao! Please! You can't leave me here!" Zhuding cried. But Hedao was already gone.
There Zhuding sat, alone in a pool, crippled.
Trapped.