43 – The Second Trial

“What? What the fuck was that supposed to mean!?” I raise my voice in anger. “I have done what was expected of me and more!”

“Which is precisely why you have failed this trial.” the voice boomed, echoing through the space like divine judgment. “Your compassion has become attachment and you have led the carpenter’s grandson to undue suffering.”

“No, I didn’t!” I roared. “I helped him when he needed it! If that’s wrong, then what the hell was I supposed to do? Abandon him?!” Anger exploding within my core just considering it.

A crushing power descended from above, like the hand of a god pressing me down. I resisted with everything I had, refusing to kneel. My anger only burned hotter.

“Insolent child! If this is the lesson you take then you will proceed no further.” 

The ground beneath my feet cracked violently. A yawning abyss split open, revealing an endless black chasm filled with roaring flames and swirling malevolent energy. The heat and oppressive weight pulled at me like a living thing, hungry to drag me into oblivion.

“Then what is expected of me?” I shouted up. “TELL ME!”

“You are supposed to lead these mortals toward less suffering,” the voice thundered. “Why, then, did you not give equal amounts of money to everyone?”

“I gave them exactly what they needed to rebuild their lives,” I shot back. “What they do with it afterward is their own choice. If the trader’s son had asked the others, he would have known he received more. Even if he wasted it, I wouldn’t blame him. But instead he hid it and did nothing. What makes you think giving him the same amount as everyone else would have made him any better?”

“Your preferential treatment is precisely what stoked his greed,” the voice replied coldly. “You gave him no guidance, no instruction. By giving him more, you filled him with fear that the others would fail and drag him down with them.”

“Why am I being punished for other people’s greed?!” I shouted, fury rising. “A man’s soul is his own, so are his decisions!”

“If that is true,” the voice pressed, “then why did you help the carpenter’s grandson over and over again?”

“A helping hand in the right place and the right time, a knowledge that you are not alone, are enough to keep one going in life.”

“So you have done this, fully knowing that you will lead him to suffering?”

“What else is there in life?”

A short, oppressive silence followed.

Then the pressure from above intensified tenfold. It slammed down like the judgment of the heavens, driving me closer to the edge of the abyss. The flames below roared hungrily as the ground cracked wider beneath my feet. I projected hooked blades connected by chains, anchoring them deep into the staircase above to keep myself from falling.

“I have heard enough,” the voice declared with finality. “Your compassion has twisted into attachment. You failed to guide the mortals onto a better path. Your decisions have sown more suffering than they relieved. You are blinded with the illusion that is life. Begone and be purified. May your next life bring you closer to enlightenment.”

As I continued resisting, dark, burning hands erupted from the abyss below, clawing at my legs and dragging me downward. The touch seared like molten iron. I continue fighting. yanking one hooked blade free to cleave through dozens of arms before slamming it back into the ground for leverage. I bit and tore at the hands gripping my head, spitting out burning flesh.

“There is no next life!” I shouted after spitting out a hand that burns my mouth. “Not in my faith and I never believe in it!”

“A man lives only once!” I pulled another blade free and slashed wildly. “Just as people are destined to die once, and after that to face judgment! That’s why I did it! To let a man live a life to the fullest! So that when he comes face to face with God, he can meet him without shame and say that he truly lived!”

A brilliant light suddenly shone from above. A hand different from the rest, bright and open in offer. I desperately take it and it raises me up from the abyss. I collapsed onto the stairs, heaving for breath. My entire body burned with pain. I looked around and there’s no one else.

“How did…”

“And if life is an illusion then I am no less an illusion, and being thus, the illusion is real to me. I live, I burn with life, I love, I slay, and am content.!” I quoted a certain popular barbarian.

Then, there’s silence. As if the voice is considering my words. Then a figure materialized in a column of pure light. A faceless monk in a humble habit. A rainbow-colored halo shimmered behind his bald head. His palms were pressed together before his chest.

“Is this the precept of your faith?” the monk asked.

I nodded.

“Then your faith is cruel. No one can achieve Nirvana in one life.”

“Which is why it is offered. Freely for those who believe and keep their faith.”

“That sounds… far fetched.”

I shrugged. “I have done what was expected and taught to me.” I didn’t know what this Nirvana is but let’s assume it is a state of Heaven or something similar.

The monk remained silent for a long moment before finally speaking.

“Very well. You may pass. But do heed these lessons well. That every action we take can have far reaching consequences. A proper guidance is worth more than any material wealth.”

“Really?”

“The fact that you can pull yourself out is a sign of your virtue.”

“Oh, about that…” An idea comes to mind. “Would you mind standing still?”

“Sure?”

I pulled out my hammer and swung it upward with all my strength, aiming straight for his balls. The hammer struck with a deafening CLANG and a powerful shockwave of metal hitting metal. The faceless monk didn’t even flinch.

“Are you satisfied now?” he asked calmly.

“Yes.” 

The monk stepped aside to make way.

“There is another lesson.” The monk said as I passed him.

“Do not get too attached to mortals. Do not become too attached to mortals. As you progress, time will become ever more fleeting. Surely you know this. Too much compassion toward them may bring you undue suffering.”

“I will decide that for myself,” I answered confidently.

I continued up the stairs without looking back.

While the monk bent a little bit forward before vanishing.

—

I pushed open the door and stepped into the second trial. Fortunately, the burns across my body had already healed. Does that mean those burning hands were illusions too?

After a short walk, I found myself standing at the base of a sheer cliff that stretched far beyond the clouds above.

I looked left and right. Golden clouds bordered the area on both sides, offering no obvious alternate route. So the task was simply to climb? Just to be sure, I walked along the base to the right. The golden clouds simply extended outward, revealing more of the endless cliff wall.

I looked up again. This is going to be a long walk.

I focused, extending my AT field to cover my entire body. I placed one foot firmly against the vertical wall, created a downward push with the field to mimic gravity, and lifted my other leg.

“Haha!” I laughed as I now stood horizontally on the cliff face. The climb suddenly felt much more manageable.

I began walking upward.

And walk. 

Then walk.

Why did the faceless monk allow me to pass? I doubted a short philosophical discussion about differing faiths was enough. Did pulling myself out of that hell-like abyss have some deeper meaning I wasn’t getting? And how did I even do it? I only remembered a bright light, then nothing.

I thought back to the first trial, examining my actions. I believed I had performed reasonably well. The whole “detachment” thing still felt like absolute bullshit, though. So does being blamed for that trader’s greed. II wasn’t the one who invited bandits to massacre the village. Sure, I gave him money, but his choices were his own. Sure I should have given instructions but blaming me for his action felt bitter. Ridiculous too. Then to the carpenter’s grandson. It's not like I am with him like a helicopter parent. There’s years between visits. At most, I was like that weird uncle who showed up occasionally. The fact that any of this was punishable by being pushed into an illusory hell made my blood boil all over again.

Then there was the lesson about time becoming more fleeting as I progressed. Was that why I had slept for three straight days? Did that mean it could stretch even longer? Months? Years? Decades? I had always thought cultivators sought immortality to enjoy life longer. But if time passed so quickly for them, how did they actually enjoy anything? Or was I missing something important?

I review how far I have walked up this cliff. It seems like down below, the golden cloud simply extends upwards as I climb. Then I looked down. There’s not even any ground visible anymore. Only more golden clouds. I extended my divine sense in every direction. The golden clouds seem to be covering my vision after a set distance. Then the cloud repels my divine sense too, so I cannot see inside if there’s anything I suppose to know. All in all this feels like those ancient games where they use volumetric clouds to cover unrendered stuff.

Then I realize that I don’t remember how far and how long I have been walking up this cliff. I continue walking up for now. What is even the purpose of this trial? However, if moving to a set direction only extends the cloud, does that mean the goal is to stop?

Well, there’s nothing else to try. I project a platform connected to the cliff. Then a chair for me. I stepped down from standing horizontally and sat on my chair. One foot crossed over the other. Resting my chin between my two hands. Staring at the empty golden clouds in front of me.

I sat still for a long while. My legs twitched restlessly from time to time. There was no sound, no wind, nothing but endless golden clouds and silence.

This might have been a mistake.

Welp, time to keep climbing.

But before I could stand, another faceless monk appeared from a column of bright light. His habit was slightly more ornate than the previous one, and a similar rainbow halo shimmered behind his bald head. I sank back into my chair.

“Would you mind if I join you?” He asked politely.

I projected another chair for him and adjusted mine so we faced each other, then added a small table between us.

“So… what do I need to do here?” I asked, already preparing something in case this was another trick.

“Nothing,” the faceless monk replied cheerfully. “You have already passed.”

“I’m sorry, what?” I stared at him. “I passed just like that?”

“Elaborate on this trial for me,” I said, still cautious.

“In life, there will be a time where you must walk blindly,” the monk said, his voice calm and measured. “Like this cliff before you. Often, you must climb despite the uncertainty. 

“Those who panic, believing they have chosen the wrong path, will attempt to climb down. they reverse their progress and betray their own effort. They delude themselves that another way might be better, remaining ignorant that there is no true starting over.

“Those driven by ambition will keep climbing no matter the cost. Or those so attached to their single path that they cannot conceive of another. They delude themselves that something must await them at the summit, remaining ignorant of everything except their own desire.

It is often necessary simply to stop. To turn inward and examine the path you have chosen. To assess your mind with clear awareness. To accept the path as it is, without regret for what could have been, and to let go of what could have been.

“You may find other trials such as these in other sects or ancient grounds. Such trials would be often lethal. To walk endlessly forward until you die of old age. To illusions that entrap you forever in a blissful what could have been. But their way is not our way.”

“I see,” I said after listening. “So it really was a good lesson after all.” I added as I put my hammer back into my storage ring.

The faceless monk noticed the hammer but made no comment.

“If only the first trial had ended like this,” I complained. “A proper dialogue is so much better.”

“It should have been this way,” the faceless monk confirmed.

I looked away, thinking back to the first trial. How the voice had pushed me into that hell-like illusion after my answers. How trials can be lethal. Then I turned back to the monk.

“The Abbot will never allow me to pass, will he?”

“I…,” He hesitated, “I cannot say. There might still be a chance.”

I took a deep breath and stood up. The faceless monk rose as well.

“How much further?” I asked, looking up the endless cliff.

“Far enough.”

I pull out my hammer in one hand and project a railgun in another. 

I planted my foot on the cliff and began walking up once more.