Years later, Chao stood a head taller than he once had. It was the latest his parents had ever come home after a day of shopping at the local village as he sat on the smooth stone floor with a spark of static lightning he’d Borrowed from his thick cotton pants. He was now big enough to take care of all the common chores, and the protection array was active around the house. Even a sky cultivator couldn’t break in unless he was foolish enough to let them in. Lightning was an element he’d only recently begun toying with. Borrowing it was easy enough, but because he couldn’t yet Create his own, it was difficult to get a handle on. With his mastery in the other elements, it was only a matter of time.

Summoning a rough needle using Create, he used the little amount of energy he possessed at his level four blood cultivation. A thin piece of iron not even as long as half his pinky took form. His earth laws were already nearing the large success state of Create, so a little piece of iron like this wasn’t difficult. Grabbing the needle with his thumb and index finger, he poked the spark of lightning and made a conscious effort to make sure it didn’t flow down his needle into his body to disappear. The spark hung at the needle’s point for a moment before he let go of his control, only to regain it immediately as the lightning surged down the needle’s length. He could feel its presence, though faint, and gathered the energy back into the needle’s point until it glowed in blue light.

He’d long finished all his chores and saw the fire was getting low. He expected his parent’s home at any time. Without getting up, he did a large Borrow on a log resting in a steel-framed bin at the side of the fireplace. It floated up. To be safe, he willed it to move slowly through the air and controlled its descent as it landed atop the burning logs. He had to keep the stew in the hanging pot simmering, for his parents would no doubt be hungry when they returned.

As he heard the door swing open behind him, the needle fell from his hand and quickly decomposed into nothing before hitting the ground. Even at the large success level of the earth laws, he wouldn’t be able to summon a permanent object into the world. That was one of those legendary abilities no one was sure actually existed.

Coming to his feet with a hop, he moved to take a step forward when he ran into an invisible wall summoned by his own dismay. His father stumbled in, carrying his mother in his arms, with blood soaking the entirety of the top of her green summer dress. She was limp as if she’d fallen asleep.

His father’s gaze wasn’t that of an injured person but held a resolve that made him balmy with fear.

Father marched toward the kitchen nearby and placed mother on the thick wooden tabletop. Energy poured out of him and into her even as she left his father’s arms.

Like an animal frozen from fright, Chao stood there, watching from the other side of the cabin, not daring to move. It was only when a third person entered their home that he tore his eyes from his father. There were now pills and ingredients lining up at his mother’s side.

It was like a lingering spirit had walked through the door. Except the woman wasn’t ethereal, but flawless like an ice sculpture, and the ends of her long, dark hair were pushed away from her body by a blue tinted aura. He knew what she was the moment he saw her.

Was she here to help?

As soon as she stepped through the door, Chao’s father called out, “Get the boy.”

The woman remained expressionless but replied, “You’re injured.”

“I’ve taken something that will give me the strength to last a few days. Please.”

She stood there motionless, as if considering something, before turning away and heading straight in Chao’s direction. His mind spun as all semblance of balance and control had been ripped away from his young body.

A hand as flawless as fresh fallen snow appeared before him, and he just stared at it blankly.

“Long Chao,” she said in a strangely lifeless but also endearing tone. “I’m a friend of your parents. Come with me. It’s urgent that we give your father space so that he can try to save your mother.”

He didn’t feel any different, but in the next moment, tears were flowing from his eyes, and yet not a sound had escaped from his mouth. He placed his hand in the woman’s, and she led him toward the door. Stealing a peek, he saw all of his father’s attention was drawn to his mother. Chao was old enough to know it wasn’t the time for an explanation, but it was the hardest thing he’d ever done, leaving the house, and the easiest. Now that the woman had ahold of him, she wasn’t letting go. All he had to do was let her lead him away.

She walked him to the very edge of their property that was surrounded with century-old redwoods that hid them from the world. They stopped there. Turning to face him, she forced a lethargic smile. “I will be taking care of you for the next couple days,” she said. “You’ll be staying in a special place that belongs only to me. You can call me Qingyuan.”

Chao nodded, for he didn’t think he had the ability to speak. Even as she took a small, blue box from her storage ring’s independent space, he didn’t have the capacity to be excited.

The flow of ice energy she sent into the little box gushed forth like the bursting of a dam that had been holding back a grand river. In any other circumstance, he would have backed away at the great force, but instead, he just stood there with partially tear-blurred vision as the box grew into a small ice palace before his eyes.

Two ice phoenix sculptures stood to either side of the entrance, their wings joining at its center to form a door. As they opened outward, it looked like the phoenixes were covering themselves with their wings.

He followed her into the structure to enter into a wide, circular space with a dome ceiling arching up at its center. Whether it was made of ice or stone, he didn’t know, for it was smooth and glossy but thick enough to make it too cloudy to see through. The temperature was cool but not excessively cold.

“You don’t cultivate ice,” Qingyuan said, “but while you’re here, it should have a positive effect on your ice laws. It’s a good opportunity for such a unique little boy, so make use of it if you can… This over here is your room.”

She led him to the right side of the building, to one of the few rooms other than the main open area. The space inside was small but cozy, with a firm mattress and a large fluffy blanket. She finally let go of his hand.

He spun to face her and was trying to build up his courage to ask her the question that had to be asked. She stood patiently while he did.

“Senior Qingyuan.” He bowed stiffly. “Will Mother be all right?”

“I don’t know, child,” she replied. “She has often told me how mature you are for your age, so I won’t hide it from you. Things don’t look good, but I will let you know as soon as I find out more. I promise.”

“Thank you.”

“Now, try to rest. It’s late, and there will be plenty of time to worry later.”

She had been right. It was more than a week before Mother’s soul left her body. Her cultivation was too high to leave a lingering spirit. Chao was angry at her for that. If she’d left a spirit, at least he could have played his pipa for her over the next few weeks until her spirit lost its energy. He could have given her a few last moments of joy before her parting. Of course, he knew that was all nonsense and quickly turned his anger on himself. There was no soul in a lingering spirit, and he just wanted to see her again, even if it was in spirit form.

When the ice fairy left him and his father alone, Chao’s mother had already been buried at the edge of her garden. Qingyuan had packed up her ice palace and taken it with her. He would remember her as distant but kind.

For an untold number of days, he went through the motions of doing his chores, for he knew his father had been seriously injured during the attack that had taken his mother’s life. Unlike hers, though, his body held together.

Chao and his father were like ghosts living in a home where the one person who had given it life had left for good.

Every dusk, he went to sit on his hewn log before the garden next to his mother’s empty seat. But he didn’t play his pipa, so no spirits came.

It was only when he saw his mother’s herbs starting to wane that he picked up his instrument and started to play. It took longer, and there were less spirits than before, but they came at his call.

After they left, his father spoke, standing behind him. “I’m putting up the protective barrier. I’ll be returning in the morning.”

He left soon after, and even if Chao wanted to play and summon the spirits a second time, they’d be incapable of making it through the array’s barrier. Still, he didn’t leave the stump after his father left. He stared at the stars and the half crescent moon that hung above his lonely little place in the world.

How long it had been since his father left, he wasn’t sure, but suddenly, the entire sky was lit up in multicolored light. It wasn’t the light of bright glowing stars or painted explosives, but it was like someone had stolen a sliver of daylight and unleashed it on the world.

The change forced Chao to squint, but it soon dimmed. Then, as if some titan were just taking a breath, the light brightened to a whole new level, and he had to lower his gaze completely.

His eyes adjusted within a few minutes, and he sat watching the lightshow, unblinking. It was like a dragon and phoenix were fighting a life and death battle tens of miles away.

Somehow, he knew, though such a display was impossible for a mere human cultivator, that it was his father finally releasing his pent-up rage at losing his wife. The heavens themselves trembled. This was a husband’s wrath.

The light show didn’t stop until early in the morning hours. Chao was covered in dew and had caught a chill, but he still sat on his own little log with his pipa in his lap.

“Son,” he heard his father call.

Looking up, he found the man slowly descending from high up above the garden. The barrier had already been deactivated.

Without another word, his father touched down and walked over to him, grabbing the pipa with one hand and scooping him up with the other. “Let’s go inside,” he said embracing his son, who was now only a head and a half shorter than he was. “I will make you breakfast.”

From that day forward, his father was no longer an empty husk but seemed to have found a new purpose.

He pushed his son gently at first, but Chao’s training took on much greater emphasis. Still, he didn’t train the boy as he would a common cultivator, for he was his mother’s son. It would’ve ruptured what was left of his broken heart if Chao were unable to return to the playful fascination he’d shared with his mother for heaven’s laws, but he found that he had been worried for nothing. As the weeks, months, and years went by, never once did the boy miss his appointment at dusk with the little garden and the lingering spirits of the surrounding area. The only exception was on the occasion they’d gone to town, but he always returned to it when they came home.