Cultivation is Creation
Chapter 286: The Fall

Corwin stepped forward from the escort group. "Master Thorn! What is the meaning of this? The Saint must complete his mission as directed by the blue sun!"

Thorn regarded the three Lightweavers with something like pity. "The 'blue sun' you revere is not what you believe it to be, Corwin. Neither is your precious Saint."

"You speak heresy!" Isara gasped.

"I speak truth," Thorn replied calmly. "A truth I have tried to bring to others for centuries while watching generation after generation fall prey to the same manipulation."

I struggled against the binding, but it was useless. The calligraphy character Elder Thorn had inscribed was far more powerful than anything Kal had demonstrated in our lessons; this was the work of a master who had spent centuries perfecting his craft.

"Release the Saint immediately," Bram demanded, stepping forward with his brush raised. "By order of the Council..."

"The Council is blind," Thorn interrupted. "As they have been since the Sundering. As we all are.”

"The Saint must complete his sacred duty," Corwin insisted. "Stand aside, Master, or we will be forced to take action against you."

Thorn sighed heavily. "You poor, deluded children. So certain of your righteousness, so blind to your manipulation." He shook his head slowly. "The being you call Saint Tomas is a disease, a vessel through which corruption spreads. Like all Saints before him, he serves not the light but the void beyond."

I tried to speak, to tell him that I wasn't following the blue sun's plan, but the binding was complete; it sealed my voice as effectively as it immobilized my body.

The three Lightweavers exchanged uncertain glances. They had been raised from infancy to revere both the blue sun and its chosen Saints. To hear an elder, one of their most respected leaders, declare both corrupt was clearly shattering their worldview.

"You're mistaken," Isara said, though her voice wavered slightly. "The blue sun is our protector, our guide..."

"It is a fragment of a broken whole," Thorn countered. "A polarized expression of an ancient corruption that has been manipulating our world for millennia. Both suns, red and blue, are symptoms of the same disease."

Despite my predicament, I found myself impressed by Thorn's understanding. He had pieced together the truth that had been hidden from most cultivators since the Sundering.

"Master, you’ve lost your mind," Corwin decided. "The red sun's influence has corrupted you."

"If only it were so simple," Thorn replied sadly. "The truth is far worse: we have all been pawns in a game whose rules and purpose we don't understand. The Saints are not saviors but vehicles; carriers of influence from beyond our world."

"Enough!" Bram shouted. "Release Saint Tomas now!"

"I cannot," Thorn said simply. "Too many have died already because we failed to stop previous Saints. I will not allow another World Tree to fall."

The three Lightweavers moved into attack formation, their faces set with determination. Despite the enormous gap in cultivation level between them and the elder, they had chosen to protect me: to fulfill what they believed was their sacred duty.

"Please," Thorn said, genuine regret in his voice. "Don't force my hand."

"Protect the Saint!" Corwin commanded, and all three attacked simultaneously.

Bram's brush moved in swift, precise strokes, creating a massive bird of prey that launched itself toward Thorn with talons extended. Corwin's calligraphy formed the character for "pierce" which transformed into a dozen spears of blue light streaking across the clearing.

Isara's attack was perhaps the most beautiful, her voice rose in a haunting melody that manifested as ribbons of blue energy, twisting and spiraling toward Thorn like living things.

The elder observed the incoming attacks with resignation. His finger traced a single character in the air: "Quiet."

The effect was immediate and horrifying.

Isara's song cut off abruptly as her mouth sealed itself shut, not just closed but actually fused, the flesh knitting together in a grotesque parody of healing. Her eyes widened in terror as she clutched at her sealed lips, panicked sounds muffled behind them.

"Dissolve," Thorn wrote next, the character flowing from his finger with casual ease.

Bram's magnificent bird unraveled in mid-air, its energy dispersing like mist in a strong wind.

Before Bram could create another construct, the dispersal effect reached him: his brush crumbling to dust in his hand, followed by his sleeves, the fabric simply falling apart at a molecular level.

"Stop!" Corwin shouted, watching in horror as his own light spears disappeared inches from their target. He tried to form another character, but Thorn was faster.

"Hold," the elder wrote, and Corwin froze in place, his body locked in mid-motion.

Thorn surveyed the three immobilized Lightweavers with genuine sadness. "I wished to avoid this," he said quietly. "You were merely following your training, your conditioning. But the puppets of the false suns cannot be allowed to complete their work."

This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author's work.

He approached Isara first, who was making desperate, muffled sounds behind her sealed lips, her eyes wide with terror and confusion.

"Release," Thorn wrote, touching her forehead gently. The character sank into her skin, and her mouth unsealed itself.

"Elder, please," she gasped, "you're making a terrible mistake..."

"No, child," he interrupted softly. "The mistake was made long ago, when we surrendered our judgment to entities beyond our comprehension." His finger traced a new character: "Peace."

Isara's expression changed instantly from terror to calm. Her eyes dulled, losing focus, and she slumped to the ground like a marionette with cut strings.

She didn't move again.

Bram tried to back away, but his partially dissolved clothing hampered his movement. "What did you do to her?" he demanded, horror creeping into his voice.

"I gave her the only mercy I can offer," Thorn replied. "Understanding," he wrote, and the character floated toward Bram, sinking into his chest.

For a moment, Bram's expression reflected confusion, then dawning comprehension, and finally, devastating sorrow.

"It's true," he whispered, tears welling in his eyes. "All this time..."

"Yes," Thorn nodded. "Few can bear the truth, which is why I rarely share it. Rest now, knowing your sacrifice serves a greater purpose than the lies you were taught."

"End," Thorn wrote, and Bram collapsed beside Isara, his eyes staring sightlessly at the sky.

Corwin remained frozen in place, only his eyes able to move, darting wildly between his fallen companions and his master who had killed them with such terrible efficiency.

"For you, my student," Thorn addressed him with unexpected gentleness, "I offer a different path."

He traced a complex series of characters that I couldn't fully make out from my position. They swirled around Corwin's head like a crown of blue light before sinking into his temples.

Corwin's rigid posture relaxed, but his expression remained blank, his eyes empty of recognition or thought.

"Forget," Thorn commanded. "Return to the Academy. Report that unknown Skybound cultivators ambushed your group and captured the Saint. You barely escaped with your life."

Like an automaton, Corwin nodded once, turned, and began walking mechanically toward the forest's edge, leaving his dead companions behind without a backward glance.

Throughout this horror, I remained bound and silent, unable to move or speak as Thorn methodically eliminated my escort. Now, with the three Lightweavers dealt with, he turned his attention back to me.

"And now for you," he said, approaching slowly. "The so-called 'Last Saint.'"

In my inner world, Azure was frantically trying to help me break free. "The binding is too strong," he reported frustratedly. "His comprehension of 'bind' is absolute, he understands restraint on a fundamental level that transcends physical force."

Thorn stopped a few paces from me, studying my immobilized form with a mixture of curiosity and disgust. "You're different from the others," he observed. "I sensed it from the moment you arrived at the Academy.”

He circled me slowly, his skeletal fingers trailing in the air as if tracing invisible patterns. "The blue sun is growing desperate. It used to be more subtle, working through properly prepared vessels over decades or centuries.”

I tried to communicate with my eyes, trying to convey that I wasn't what he thought, that I was working against the blue sun's influence, not for it. Thorn seemed to notice my desperate attempts.

"Trying to plead your case?" he asked, a hint of dark amusement in his voice. "They all do, when cornered. As if the puppet could convince me it isn't controlled by its strings."

He shook his head sadly. "I've been fighting this battle for centuries, eliminating Saints and candidates when I could, sabotaging their missions when I couldn't. Few suspect Elder Thorn, the quiet one, the observer, of being the Order's greatest heretic."

With a gesture, he tightened the binding around me until breathing became difficult. "The emergence of an unprecedented resonance rang alarm bells immediately. I knew the blue sun was finally making its decisive move. And then your declaration of war, so premature, so desperate." He shook his head in disgust. "No, I won't let you destroy my world."

My eyes widened, trying to communicate that I shared his goal, that I too sought to prevent the world's destruction. If only he would release the binding enough for me to speak!

Thorn mistook my desperate gaze for pleading. "Begging won't save you," he said coldly. "Your physical body may be innocent, a vessel stolen by corrupted energy, but your soul is tainted beyond redemption. Nothing of the original Tomas remains."

If he only knew how right and wrong he was simultaneously. The original Tomas was indeed gone, but not replaced by a blue sun puppet, replaced by me, a cultivator from another world entirely.

"I take no pleasure in this," Thorn continued, raising his hand. "But the needs of the world outweigh the suffering of individuals."

His finger moved through the air with graceful precision, writing a single character that glowed with malevolent purpose: "Devour."

The golden chains binding me suddenly animated, developing tooth-lined mouths along their lengths. With horrific deliberation, they began to bite into my flesh, not just restraining me now but consuming me piece by piece.

The pain was excruciating, I couldn't scream, couldn't move, could only endure as the chains methodically ate through muscle, bone, and organ. Blood poured from dozens of wounds as chunks of my body were torn away and consumed.

Through fading vision, I saw Elder Thorn watching my destruction with solemn resolution. There was no cruelty in his expression, only grim determination, the face of a healer performing a painful but necessary amputation.

He raised his hand again, his skeletal finger tracing a new character in the air, one I hadn't seen before, complex and ancient-looking.

"The flesh is merely a vessel," Thorn said quietly. "To truly end this cycle, I must destroy the corruption at its source: your soul."

Cold terror flooded through me, eclipsing even the physical agony of being devoured alive. This wasn't just about dying in this body. If my soul was destroyed here, there would be no returning to my original body in the Cultivation Realm. No waking up to continue my mission. This would be true death, absolute and final.

"Master!" Azure's voice was frantic. "We need to separate from this vessel immediately!"

I tried desperately to initiate the process we'd used before, the technique to detach my consciousness from this borrowed form and return to my true body. But something was wrong. The binding spell wasn't just restraining Tomas's physical form, it had anchored my soul to it as well, preventing the separation.

"I can't break free," I realized with horror. "The bind character has trapped me here completely!"

"Soul Severance," Elder Thorn whispered, the new character glowing with terrible purpose as it completed its formation. "To eradicate not just the vessel, but the invading presence within."

Panic coursed through me as the glowing character began floating toward my forehead. This wasn't just death; this was oblivion. Everything I was, everything I had been, everything I might become, all of it about to be extinguished forever.

"The Genesis Seed!" Azure cried. "Channel everything into it; it's our only chance!"

With the last of my strength, I focused inward, pouring every remaining scrap of energy into the Genesis Seed at the center of my inner world. If anything could protect my soul from destruction, it would be this Beyond Heaven Rank cultivation method.

The blue character touched my forehead, searing pain unlike anything I'd ever experienced coursed through my entire being. I felt my soul being systematically unmade, coming apart thread by thread.

Through my fading consciousness, I heard the elder sigh deeply. "Another fallen. How many more must I destroy before this is over?" His footsteps receded as he walked away, leaving what remained of me to be consumed by complete oblivion.

Then, nothing.