Nightfall

The Beginning

A long long time ago, there were many unknown places, in which there lived many unknown people.

…

…

The sun was a massive fireball setting in the distance of the wilderness, radiating blistering red flames, retracting at a slow continuous decline. The newly sprouted moss that had appeared after the snowmelt had spread everywhere, and resembled burn scars. Silence prevailed, only to be interrupted by the occasional screech of an eagle or the trotting sound of gazelles in the distance.

There were three individuals that stood in the open and barren wilderness, and under a small tree, is where they had gathered. They didn’t greet one another, instead, all three of them were looking down in tacit unison as if something under the tree had sparked their interest and was worthy of careful inspection.

There were two ant colonies fighting around the tree’s roots that had broken through the icy soil. Perhaps a home as perfect as this was truly hard to find in this desolate place, and the battle was getting brutal, instantly leaving thousands of dead ant bodies behind. This might have sounded very tragic and bloody, though, in reality, all that was left was a peppering of little black dots on the ground.

The weather was frigid, but the three individuals weren’t wearing much as if cold didn’t bother them at all. They kept watching attentively, until one of them broke the silence and whispered, “In this worldly kingdom of ants, wherefore is the Grand Tao?”

He was a slim, short and boyish-looking lad, wearing a pale blue collarless shirt, and he was carrying a sheathless, thin wooden sword. His jet black hair was carefully combed into a bun and held in place with a wooden fork that looked like it could slip out at any time, but at the same time, it remained unshakably rooted, firmly, like a pine tree.

“While the chief monk was preaching, I saw countless ants flying up as they bathed in the sunlight.”

It was a young monk who spoke this time. He was dressed in tattered cotton kasaya, and there was black, sharp, stubble sprouting from his scalp. This somehow resembled the strength and determination written on his face and conveyed by his words.

“Ants may be able to fly, but they will fall eventually. They shall never touch the sky,” the lad carrying the wooden sword exclaimed as he shook his head.

“If you hold this belief, then you will never be able to understand the true meaning of the Taoist Heart,” said the young monk as he slowly blinked his eyes, still looking down at the warring ant colonies, “I heard your temple dean recruited a new child disciple with the surname of Chen. Then you should understand that you would never be the only prodigy at a place like the Zhishou Temple.”

The lad with the wooden sword raised an eyebrow and replied with a sneer, “I will never understand how someone constrained like you is qualified to represent Xuankong Temple as its wayfarer in the world.”

“The ants will fly, just like they will fall. However, they are better at climbing, and they are good at letting their fellow ants climb upon them. They are not afraid of sacrifice and as they pile upon one another, as long as there are enough of them, they shall eventually pile up high enough to touch the sky,” said the young monk as he ignored the defiant comment and continued gazing at the anxiously scurrying ants below.

Amidst the increasing twilight, an eagle screeched sharply, sounding terrified. Perhaps it was the three strange individuals standing under the tree, or maybe it was the imagery of an enormous pile of ants that had reached the sky, or could it be something else entirely?

“I am really frightened.”

The wooden sword lad admitted abruptly while straightening his thin shoulders.