The one who saved him, who took him in, is the master of this sect, they say. Not Tantai Jin, not Ming Ye, not the Devil God. He was born Tantai Jin from the Jing Kingdom, and he had lived Ming Ye’s life as viscerally as one of his own. All Bo’re’s dream was to him was a dream, his life as Ming Ye had never been real but a role he’d played in a long, tenuous act.īut it is true and it is before him now, sprawling endlessly. Mount Buzhao is magnificent, a place Tantai Jin had never thought he’d ever behold. Since his admission into the Xiaoyao sect, he has spent his days wandering and refining the energy he feels around him. Bo’re’s Dream, the borrowed memory of a forgotten god, had not done justice to the detail of what all of this beauty actually felt to touch. Of course, there is not a single thing else that he could’ve expected from this place. He looks into the lake, clear and divine. He was born Tantai Jin from the Jing Kingdom and he is, now: How he broke piece by piece into what he is now. Most of what he remembers is unfailing rage, bubbling below the surface of his person. Everything else that he retains is mostly doubtful. Ye Xiwu― that… she is his natural memory. The Sheng Kingdom and Xiao Lin― that is his natural memory. How he grew up― that is his natural memory. Until it’s centuries upon centuries of lives lived and gone by with an origin that does not make any sense or has any meaning beyond: you will always be in pain and then you will die. Until it’s six nails piercing your heart. It begins the way all pain does, a slow tumour taking root in the deepest part of your person, into the muscle and bone that remains as essential as life to you, and then growing and growing and growing until it’s a nail piercing your heart. There is a kind of suffering that cannot be understood or defined.

Heart of darkness course hero