Chapter 94: The Dao of the Scam

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“I see,” Jin muttered quietly in the abandoned part of the archives to which he’d dragged the overly enthusiastic Kong Ching. “So you playe- experienced all my scenarios, but the strong metaphorical narrative in Skyrim caused you to seek me out.”

“Indeed, teacher,” Kong said happily while nodding his head. “I gained much from your Illusion Rooms; in fact, they are my most prized possessions. In the beginning, I simply thought they existed to improve my combat efficacy, but Outlast strengthened my mentality, which had a positive impact on my cultivation. Then I experienced The Last of Us, which caused me to understand more deeply the purpose of the human spirit. Skyrim, however, showed me exactly where I should apply my strength to shift the scales as much as necessary. The tale is heartening, but after finishing it, one cannot help but realise that in reality, there is no fated dragonborn to save humanity. This leaves us as individuals needing to press our meagre efforts onto the scales to preserve our species.”

Jin looked at the yellow-robed disciple blankly before eventually nodding. “I’m surprised someone grasped the core message of the scenario so quickly,” he said with a wise nod.

“However, I truly don’t have much to say about the social commentary present in my work. There is a concept called the death of the author, according to which every work of art or commerce manifests a different experience depending on who perceives it. Considering the subjectivity of dialectic understanding, the personal perception of the work thus becomes more correct than the author’s intent, leading to a preferred state where the author should not be questioned as to their purpose,” Jin continued by explaining.

The blonde cultivator opposite Jin, handsome face barely visible in the dark archives, only illuminated by the small lights of the Illusion Room, slowly nodded. “I see… I was too hasty,” the man admitted quickly, showing that he could be reasoned with, which caused Jin to relax a little. 

“The effect your scenario has on the experiencers of it is indeed out of your hands the moment you let go of the product.” Kong paused and scrunched his brows, starting to speak more quietly. 

“Indeed, considering that the scenario calls out the cultivation world for its lack of unity in the face of existential crisis, it can be considered a form of critique many Elders and Sect Leaders would be unable to accept. Thus, instead of calling them out with real-life examples, you create a fictional narrative which consists of only allegories, but which still cuts to the meat of the matter, thus leaving you an escape in ambiguity if ever confronted.”

Jin wanted to cry. What the fuck was this guy talking about?

Kong Ching continued. “In fact, considering the difference in power between those who can perceive the unfavourable status quo in comparison to those who enforce it, using an artistic form of ideological dissemination is highly preferable to a centralised -and thus easily eradicated- form of political radicalism.” After uttering these words, the golden-eyed menace gave Jin an indecipherable look.

‘Brother, what in the fuck,’ was what Jin wanted to say. Unfortunately, he definitely was not willing to find out what Kong Ching would do if he discovered that Jin was, in fact, a traitor to the revolution he had apparently unwillingly incited. He simply nodded.

“If you speak out loud, you will be silenced, whisper instead, and eventually the whispers of the common folk will unite to create a mighty roar that can break any chain,” Kong Ching concluded wisely.

“That is your interpretation,” Jin said cautiously, playing into the bit in an attempt to control the situation. “Now, if we were to assume, hypothetically, that the current social modus operandi being used against demonic encroachment is flawed, what steps would be necessary to change it for the better?”

Kong Ching stared at Jin blankly for a second before clapping his fist into his hand. “Of course,” he whispered harshly. “Those who benefit from the status quo, those who are amassing cultivation resources to escape this reality, rather than improve it, can only do so because they are further along the path of cultivation, thus giving them an asymmetric strength advantage.”

“You’ve hit the nail on the head,” Jin replied. “To change something, you can only gather strength,” he said ambiguously, uttering a phrase that was only rebellious in context, but factually correct outside of it.

“Had I realised this unfortunate situation without your answer to guide me, I would have become utterly lost in the sea of nihilism our situation elicits in anyone who truly perceives it,” Kong Ching said darkly. “In fact, when one is powerless, one must move along lines that are more subtle than those commonly occupied by the orthodoxy. Culture, entertainment, youth.”

“The young of the world, they too will be old one day.”

“Exactly, we need strength, but we also need numbers. A cultural artefact that is as meaningful as it is entertaining is the perfect ideological vehicle to reach the disenfranchised,” Kong Ching concluded. “My goal should thus be to gain strength, but also to spread the scenarios as far as I can.” He extended a hand and clasped Jin’s shoulder.

“Brother,” Kong said with a complicated look. “I will not implicate you further with my presence. In this great shifting web of power, you, who are at the middle of the revolution, must remain unknown, unsuspected, and unharmed. They refer to me as the genius of the Star Bursting Sect, but with your work, we can reach many other geniuses.”

“In a world where strength rules, the second most important power is the ability to change minds,” Jin said, channelling his inner chuuni.

“Indeed,” Kong Ching agreed with shining eyes. “To face off against the sect leaders and the aristocrats enforcing this unfavourable situation…”

“In conflict, one achieves more victories if one aligns one’s goals with the enemy,” Jin suddenly interrupted the moment the phrase ‘face off against sect leaders’ came up. “The elders of the sects are not our enemy, because in a way they desire the same thing we do.”

Kong Ching furrowed his brows, grip on Jin’s shoulder tightening painfully. 

“Elaborate, teacher,” he asked.

“The cultivators of old enforce a technological, academic and ideological stagnation not through their will, but simply through the core components of their identity. What kind of change can be led by someone older than the Empire? They see innovation as a distraction from a system that works; after all, they are at the top, and it works for them. But to remove them from the top does not necessitate any great battle, but simply a push in the right direction. Help them ascend to the next realm, and the sect leadership will open up to someone younger, more ambitious,” Jin explained, desperately trying to align Kong Ching’s methods, which were starting to sound a lot like the soviet ‘take them outside and shoot them,’ towards a methodology that wouldn’t get anyone executed.

The blonde man nodded thoughtfully, released Jin’s shoulder and bowed once again. “You are right once again, teacher. Help them ascend, and there will be no battle for supremacy; in fact, they will cheer us on and help us along as we get rid of them. Doing so can even strengthen our chances of securing leadership next.” He seemed to mull over something before making a decision. 

“I see that what the current situation necessitates is a journey. Strength must be gained, Illusion Rooms must be spread, and resources must be accumulated, for the self and for the leadership.” He gave Jin one more deep look. 

“In fact, the journey I will embark on will be eerily similar to the one the dragonborn took. The jarls bicker while the world is engulfed in flames around them. I must wander through the different keeps, currying favour to set up the correct circumstances for the survival of humanity.”

“Indeed,” Jin said drily.

“This visit was fruitful, and for the first time in my life I see the world clearly for what it is,” Kong Ching remarked, “although I seem to have said that relatively often recently, yet every time you manage to peel back another layer of this reality to show me the flesh beneath.” He paused. “Saving the resources I gain in my travels for political relevance will leave me with not much to invest in my own cultivation. Do you have any advice for a brother lost on the way to the dao?”

“I’ve only ever used spirit stones,” Jin commented idly. “In my opinion? The thing that helps most is a purity of purpose. An unburdened mind achieves in little time what a burdened one needs a decade to accomplish.”

“Your words are as wise as the river and as deep as the sea,” Kong Ching said quietly, before coughing awkwardly. “I will spread your Illusion Rooms far and wide, teacher. Could you perhaps fetch me some?”

Jin stared at the inner disciple blankly, very worried that if he didn’t give away a few freebies, the other man would really go raving about the glorious revolution to the wrong person and bring about doom for everyone involved. Uncaring for the lost revenue, he promptly went to fetch the last of his reserves stored in the library and pushed them into Kong Ching’s hands in their minimised form. A dozen or so of each Room, alongside fifty or so copies of Skyrim. He felt his wallet cry out…

Kong Ching stowed away the gains resolutely, as if embarking on a holy mission, which, apparently, he thought he was. He suddenly surged forward, grasped Jin’s hand and kneeled down, pressing the back of it to his forehead.

“We shall never speak again, the risk is too great,” Kong Ching whispered fervently, his voice losing itself in the dark depths of the archives. “Your name will never caress my lips again, remaining unspoken in mouth, but unforgotten in heart.” He stood up slowly, thumped a fist to his chest. “For the revolution, my everything,” he swore, and then he was off.

Jin watched him go, dizzy.

Had he… had he just gotten scammed?

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Elder Flower sheathed the sword back into her hip, putting her hands into the pockets of her hakama pants as she left Alduin thrash and shout at his death.

She paused after having taken a few dozen steps and looked back with furrowed brows.

The double-jawed black dragon who had reminded her of the demon general she’d slain was gone.

Nevertheless, the scenario did not end.

The sounds of a peaceful, albeit now destroyed, Sovnegard came to life around her, the incredible musical composition of the scenario once again taking large parts of her attention.

She waited for a minute, two minutes, before eventually twisting in on herself and appearing in the bustling streets of Windhelm, where people were already proclaiming the defeat of Alduin and calling her a hero.

Another twist brought her to the Winter College, where the harsh wind promptly tried and failed to bring down her body temperature.

More and more twists let her to observe that the world was essentially still functioning as if the scenario was not complete.

Had she misunderstood something?

Was defeating Alduin not the ending?

“This logic,” she eventually said with a sigh, standing atop the cliff where she’d once learned shouts from Paarthurnax. “There’s no logic,” she eventually decided, before sitting down on the cliff’s edge and letting her legs dangle above the deadly drop.

For once, the sky decided to clear, leaving behind an unobstructed view of the entire world that Jin had created. Green forests, grey mountains, blue lakes.

She heard eagles screech as they swooped down to catch their prey. The braying of mountain goats as they frolicked alongside the cliffs in search of greens. The howling of wolves as they staked their territory.

Elder Flower closed her eyes and let the wind dance across her face.

The world did not have a high resolution, making it somewhat visually lacking to her senses. But this wind, the wind of a false reality, felt more pleasant to her than any that she’d felt in the higher-grade Illusion Rooms in her personal library.

She suddenly realised something.

“Some would think this scenario is about defeating dragons and protecting humanity,” she mused out loud, drawing one of her knees up to her chest and letting her chin rest on it. “Others would say it's a metaphor about the lack of unity when faced with an apocalyptic threat.” 

She’d started the scenario out of a need to check up on what her disciple had been doing for so many years, verify the quality, assess the value, and find the faults to offer suggestions.

Instead, she’d finally realised what Jin had been doing, since that very first day she’d met him in his promotion exam to the inner ring.

“Scenarios, illusory worlds created for the sole purpose of increasing combat efficiency,” she mused. “Dragonslayer Ornstein arguably trains one’s adaptability by presenting an enemy never seen before, but the enjoyment that comes from the aesthetic presentation of the cathedral can’t be understated. The Last of Us supposedly teaches soldiers to fight zombies, but instead almost completely abandoned that purpose to teach them why they should. Outlast…” she started, before shaking her head. “Actually, that one is just a torture device born out of some unresolved childhood trauma…”

“Skyrim has as many facets as it has experiencers, because the amount of things it has to offer means that nobody will utilise it in exactly the same way. The only consistent basis present in all experiences is the aesthetic and spiritual value of a completely different culture, climate and fauna, and the freedom one has in exploring it.” 

It’s an Illusion Room that cultivates the spirit. Let's one test the value of new combat methodologies rather than the value of existing skills. It becomes addictive because it presents the experiencer a mental respite from the struggles and hardships of cultivation by offering an absolute freedom that washes away fatigue through immersion…”

“He’s not even trying to hide it anymore,” she said with some amusement. “Combat is simply the stepping stone. Enjoyment is what allows for immersion, be it achieved through aesthetic pleasure or novelty. This isn’t an Illusion Room, nor is it a scenario. It’s a proposal on evolution. One way in which the future might develop, in which illusions become…” She struggled to form the words. “A higher art form.”

“In the end, you’re just like any other artist, Jin, using commerce for your purposes while forging your own path, but inevitably revealing yourself more than anyone else would dare.” 

The smile on her face just wouldn’t leave; it was as stubborn as her disciple.

“Absolute freedom, a world in which the existential threat has been defeated, leaving behind an experience rather than a struggle. It’s a beautiful world. Is that what you’re trying to show me, or is it simply my own interpretation of this highly interpretable thing you’ve created?”

“Most won’t even figure out why this experience changed their life, their attitude, their path. They’ll just exit it after sixty days and never be the same again. A silent revolution, a revolution that was completed without raising a single sword or shedding a single drop of blood.”

She couldn’t help it anymore.

She covered her face with one hand and shed a solitary tear. “This talent. Am I cursed to never possess it, or blessed to have it in my grasp regardless?”

She giggled as tears streaked down her face, thinking back to the thousands of years she’d toiled, only to watch the growth of someone who’d surpass everything she’d ever hoped to be in a dozen.

“What a stupid thing, huh, this… talent of ours.”

“I’m just a wooden club in comparison, a big dumb wooden club.” She laughed, tears dried. “But I guess every genius needs a brute to protect them when they’ve yet to grow powerful enough to shoulder the consequences of their actions…”

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