Eunae wasn’t kidding about how long it would take her. Rika and Ja Yun left to meditate on their own after the first hour, and it was another three after that before Eunae had actually started to make any noticeable progress.

Yoshika stayed to watch the entire time. Not only because it had to take place within her soulscape, but also because she found the entire process so interesting. In Yoshika’s soulscape, Eunae’s power manifested as a visible extension of herself—visible claws of soulfire extending from her hands that delicately manipulated the divine essence of Jianmo’s avatar.

She didn’t understand exactly what Eunae was doing, but nevertheless committed each and every moment of it to memory. The avatar had layers upon layers of essence, each serving some function that allowed it to mimic a real soul. At the core was the framework of divine essence upon which the rest of the artificial soul was grown.

Yoshika had been surprised when Eunae’s power could shift the divine essence as easily as the rest. She’d needed to train for months in order to learn how to sense and manipulate her own divine spark and access divine essence for herself, but Eunae’s Soulfire bypassed that entirely. She doubted that Soulfire was capable of creating any divine essence, but Yoshika couldn’t do that, either.

At least, not without triggering her ascension to the xiantian realms and ruining her plans for the future—something that had been growing increasingly difficult to stave off, as of late.

Layer by layer, bit by bit, Eunae carefully put Jianmo’s avatar back together. It was almost the opposite of how the construct was supposed to work. It was meant to grow its own essence from within, but Eunae was delicately reconnecting the dismantled construct from the outside.

They lost track of time entirely. At some point, Heian’s cat form padded over from her spot in front of the stove and lay down to stare at Eunae’s work as well—her human form was busy playing with Narae. Heian’s interest sparked Yoshika to consider the relationship between divine essence and souls.

Spirits were essentially raw souls, without bodies or auras. They were made entirely of essence, yet were fundamentally different from Elementals which were also made of essence. Jianmo had once described it as a difference between Qi, Ki, and Mana, which were all different phases of the same energy—broadly referred to as essence.

What, then, was divine essence? Why could elementals form ‘bodies’ out of solid mana crystal cores and gain access to their souls—with some effort—but spirits were doomed to exist only as ephemeral beings? The divine seal that separated Yoshika’s world from the divine realm explicitly oppressed spirits that attempted to embody themselves, but why?

Yoshika’s thoughts returned to the way Eunae’s claws could so easily do something that had taken her months of effort and a painful trial by the source of those very same claws to realize. Spirits were naturally inclined towards divinity. Jianmo had once said that the vast majority of ascended deities began life as spirits, and that spirits could instinctively handle divine essence.

That was why the divine realm oppressed them so—it was designed to keep any being from entering or leaving the world. But what made spirits so special? They were living ideas, concepts given life from the essence of human emotion. In Yamato, they were still worshiped as Kami—gods.

Something crystallized in Yoshika’s mind. Spirits, souls, domains, and divine essence—they were all the same. A spirit was ‘born’ when enough human souls resonated with an idea that it became a part of the natural flow of mana throughout the world and gained a life of its own. A domain was created when a cultivator refined the meaning of their own soul to embody a concept so thoroughly that it became who they were.

Esoteric elements like Heian’s Shadow, or Eunae’s Soulfire, or Forge weren’t simply unusual combinations of elements that mana theory couldn’t neatly categorize—they were domains. Heian wasn’t made of Shadow essence—she was Shadow essence. Every mote of Shadow essence in existence was a fragment of the same spirit.

Spirits didn’t become gods—they already were. They simply needed to collect enough of themselves to become complete. Complete. That was why they were so obsessed with embodiment—it was a misguided instinct to gather enough of themselves to become whole. They didn’t need bodies, they were already the purest form of life.

And to take that in reverse, a cultivator’s ascension was a path towards becoming the same kind of being. Yoshika remembered the God-Emperor Qin’s words, seared into her soul by the awakening stone she’d used so many years ago.

Enlightenment of the Qi-soul

By the God-Emperor’s decree, the great sects of Qin must heed the words contained herein.

The first tenet: The body and mind are chains which restrict the soul. Enlightenment can only be achieved when the mortal needs of the flesh, and the mortal desires of the mind are cast aside and burned away in divine tribulation.

The second tenet: To prepare the soul to survive the heavenly fires of ascension, the natural energies of the world must be refined within the cauldron of the soul. Only a spiritual body of purest divine energy may survive the annihilation of the mortal chains.

The third tenet: To begin the path of enlightenment, spiritual impurities must be purged to open a path through the meridians to the dantian of the soul. Sense the natural laws of existence, know these words as truth, and take the first steps on the True Path.

Awaken, my children, and follow me on the path to divinity!

It had been so long that she’d nearly forgotten. It was...almost right. Instead of stripping away the body and mind, they had to be—

Yoshika felt an uncomfortable stirring within her soul. Heian jerked upright and looked away from Eunae’s work to stare at Yoshika. In a panic, Yoshika forced her thoughts to stop and locked everything she’d been considering away, sealing those ideas in an essence construct and detaching it from her soul entirely.

It was overkill, and she couldn’t even remember why she’d done it by the time she was finished. With an irritated huff, she realized she’d also lost several important details about Eunae’s work on Jianmo’s avatar—she’d been trying to learn about that!

When she opened her eyes, Heian and Eunae were both looking right at her—as was Jianmo, though his eyes looked empty and hollow. Eunae furrowed her brows.

“Are you alright, Yoshika? I felt...something, and then you just tore out a piece of your own soul.”

Yoshika winced—Eunae’s newfound connection to her power made her particularly sensitive to matters of the soul, apparently.

“I’m fine. Just had some revelations I wasn’t ready for...apparently. I don’t know what they were—which is kind of the point. I think I would have called down a tribulation if I continued that way.”

“Is...is that how you’ve been delaying it? Just tearing out pieces of your soul each time you get close? That sounds...horribly unhealthy.”

“No! That’s the first time I’ve ever had to do something that drastic...I think. I guess I wouldn’t remember if I had, but it’s not like the insights are gone. It’s like Dae and Ja Yun’s compartmentalization technique—they’re just set aside for now, until I’m ready.”

Eunae pursed her lips, unsatisfied by the answer, but didn’t press.

“If you say so. In the meantime, I’ve finished here. Though I don’t think you’re going to be pleased with the results.”

Yoshika looked up at Jianmo’s avatar. He met her eyes, but she didn’t feel anything at all behind them.

“Jianmo, are you okay?”

The avatar just stared at her for a long moment, and she was beginning to fear he wouldn’t say anything before he finally responded.

“I am not Jianmo, nor anybody else. Some fragments of my previous knowledge remain, but I am otherwise an empty shell.”

It was extremely unsettling to see Jianmo speaking that way, without any hint of affect or his usual flirty attitude.

“What is that supposed to mean? You aren’t you, why—just because you don’t have your whole personality intact? Maybe we can still fix it, I’m certain I was careful not to break anything when I took you apart.”

Jianmo shook his head.

“You did not. The process was inherently destructive. There was never a possibility of restoring this vessel entirely.”

“What?! You specifically told me that I’d be able to put you back together afterwards!”

“I lied to manipulate you.”

Yoshika went pale.

“What—why?”

“I was created for the purpose of instructing you in the absence of my creator. I judged that my capacity to do so had been exhausted. Providing insight into the details of my own construction was all I had left to offer.”

“I don’t understand—you didn’t have to kill yourself just because you had nothing left to teach me!”

Eunae put a hand on Yoshika's shoulder.

“Yoshika, I don’t think Jianmo’s avatar ever considered itself to be alive in the first place.”

Jianmo—or, whatever Yoshika was supposed to call the thing that now appeared as his avatar—nodded.

“That is correct. I am nothing more than an essence construct made to simulate the persona of my creator. I now lack that persona, but my nature remains unchanged.”

Yoshika grimaced.

“I’m going to be very upset if you try to convince me that Li Meili is the same.”

“The nature of your avatar is different to mine. However, if you were to manifest it without creating a personality, it would be similarly unable to act on its own initiative.”

As much as she wanted to argue, she knew that the avatar was right. This was what Li Meili was struggling with—the knowledge without memories, how things from before her manifestation felt fake. This was why she didn’t want to be reconstituted again—the new avatar wouldn’t be her anymore.

“Damn it—what am I supposed to do now?”

She had been hoping to gain answers from Jianmo’s avatar, but it only made things seem even more hopeless for Li Meili. To her surprise, the avatar actually answered.

“I do not know the method for ensouling an essence construct such as your avatar.”

That was an auspicious way to phrase things.

“But there is a method?”

“What remains of my memory suggests so.”

“Do you know anything about it? Some hint you can give me?”

The avatar shook its head.

“I do not. Most of my knowledge comes from my connection to your soul. The memories of my creator are fragmented and useless.”

“You were able to tell me that it’s possible to give Li Meili her own soul, that’s not useless.”

“You are correct. My ability to evaluate useful data is flawed.”

Yoshika sighed.

“Great. Now what am I supposed to do with you?”

“The core framework of this avatar is still valid. You could use it to create another avatar, or repurpose the remaining divine essence to fuel sacred arts.”

She glared at the construct—she hated to think of it that way, but she could feel exactly how empty it was. It really was a mindless automaton just reacting to what she was saying.

“...thanks, I’ll keep that in mind. Eunae, I think this was a bust—I’m really sorry for wasting your time.”

Eunae shook her head.

“Not at all. It was a valuable experience for me, and you seemed to gain some kind of insight as well. Not to mention Heian.”

Yoshika glanced down at the cat spirit, who’d happily wandered off after whatever insight had caused Yoshika to seal off a piece of her own soul and was now napping in front of the stove again.

“Yeah, she seemed pretty interested in what you were doing. I’m curious about what caught her interest, but I’ve got a bad feeling about following that line of thought.”

Eunae raised an eyebrow curiously—her veil mercifully not appearing within the soulscape.

“Something to do with your earlier episode?”

“Yeah, probably. I really don’t think we should look too deeply into that just yet.”

“Fair enough, I suppose. About what Jianmo’s avatar said—I think using it to create a second avatar is a good idea. It would enable me to practice more risky or complex applications of my power with minimal danger.”

Yoshika frowned darkly at her friend.

“I’m not going to make a second Li Meili just so that you can stick your claws in her brain and play around with it!”

Eunae crossed her arms and pouted.

“Of course not! I resent the implication—I thought you knew me better than that.”

Yoshika sighed and looked down at her feet.

“You’re right—I’m sorry. I’m just feeling a bit on edge right now. What did you actually have in mind?”

“You made Li Meili with autonomy in mind. She has her own wants and needs, but those aren’t essential elements. It normally wouldn’t be useful, but what’s to stop you from creating an avatar like this one, which can only react?”

“Other than the fact that it’s kind of gross and weird?”

Eunae huffed.

“Alright, yes—creating a lifelike mindless doll only capable of reacting would be a little bit strange if we didn’t have a good reason to, but we do! I don’t feel comfortable attempting the sorts of things I’d need to learn in order to fix your scar, or to help Li Meili—no matter how much Ja Yun thinks she’d enjoy it.”

“But an avatar with no persona would make a good practice dummy. I still think it’s a little weird. I don’t know—give me some time to think about it? It’s pretty late anyway, and I should be getting back.”

“Of course. I’m sorry things didn’t turn out as well as you’d hoped.”

Yoshika shrugged.

“It’s not all bad. Typical of Jianmo to fucking lie to me about things, though. Asshole.”

Eunae giggled.

“I wonder what they are up to? You haven’t heard from them at all since your encounter with Sovereign Shen?”

“No, and that was a year ago now. I’m actually a little worried.”

“I’m sure they’ll turn up. Ten thousand years sealed in a cave has probably distorted their sense of time.”

Yoshika nodded.

“Probably.”

With their work complete, Yoshika and Eunae returned to the physical realm and awoke to find unexpected company.

Xin Hai, Lin Xiulan, and Guan Yu—the three grandmasters of the Spiritual Flowing Purewater Sect stood over them looking unusually somber. Guan Yu was expressionless as ever, but even Xin Hai’s affable grin had been replaced with a flat, serious frown.

He bowed in greeting as Yoshika opened her eyes—evidently they’d been waiting.

“I hope we are not interrupting anything, but I’m afraid I must insist that we speak immediately.”