Title at the End.
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Han Jianyu's descent into darkness left him wondering whether he was truly being guiding by fate, or just embarking on an endless journey.
He started feeling like he was dreaming- like everything around him wasn't real.
Like he was still back in the Jade Sphere, sleeping beneath a Diamondwood tree after training all day with his sword.
His sword, which had been with him from a very young age, would be firmly gripped in his hands as he slept, an eternal sword seal in the other.
He did not recall why he chose to become a sword cultivator, or who it was that gave him the sword.
His memory on all those subjects had suddenly been blurred. Even his life back in the Jade Sphere seemed more illusory than anything else.
Certain parts of it left him confused. Gaps in his memory coupled with his current predicament only solidified his belief that he was losing his mind.
Opening his eyes to try to get his bearings did not work, it only made him feel even more paranoid.
Something was wrong. The deeper he went, the more certain he was. The deeper he went...
The closer his mind came to breaking.
As his own memories swirled in his head, he suddenly found himself dwelling on more recent ones.
That mysterious world of black and white.
The stone tablet.
The writing on it that he could not remember no matter how hard he tried.
And those accursed whispers.
As if taking his recollection as a sign or signal, the whispers resurfaced in his mind, assailing his senses and ruining his balance.
"Stop, damnit! Agh!" Han Jianyu clutched his head, then tried to seal his ears as the whispers continued.
Pained, he thrashed and groaned, but they only got worse.
Suddenly, his foot slipped and he fell, rolling down the winding staircase as he crashed into walls, unable to stop himself.
"Ah! Oof! Gah! Shit!"
He rolled, and rolled, his mostly healed wound flaring up in pain as a trace of blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.
After rolling for a while, he hit a piece of flat ground.
Gathering himself, Han Jianyu caught his breath and stood. At some point, the whispers had stopped.
Now, there was nothing but cold... and darkness.
Directly in front of him, he could feel that there was a large opening that led into a bigger space.
He knew, but couldn't see.
His hands in front of him, he felt around as he moved, confirming his suspicions.
He stepped out onto smoother flooring, in a space that his still-recovering senses told him was vast.
Vast... and incredibly cold.
Clutching his torso, Han Jianyu wiped the last trace of blood from his mouth, slowly entering the dark space.
Suddenly, he felt himself step up onto something. At the same moment, there was a subtle change in the space.
Something he only noticed when he looked above him.
A single white flame had ignited up above, revealing to him just how far away the ceiling was.
It seemed impossibly far, yet when he recalled just how long he had been going down, he felt it made sense. Somewhat.
Taking another careful step onto whatever he was now standing on, Han Jianyu saw more and more of those white flames ignite.
In the endless blackness, they were like the distant stars in the night sky, slowly coming to life all around him.
Before long, the entire space assumed a subtle glow; it was as though soft moonlight was cascading from above.
Looking around now, Han Jianyu could barely see what was around him.
It looked like an enormous ball room, except there were faint rectangular shapes on the walls, save for the one behind him.
Looking as closely as he could, he managed to ascertain that those shapes were actually paintings.
As for what was ahead of him, he saw a staircase leading up to a platform. The staircase was large and wide, but its size and width decreased the higher it went.
However, the most shocking thing about the room was its design.
To the left of the staircase and platform, which were at the center of the room, everything was white- even the floor.
To the right, everything was black.
The platform above was directly in the middle, both halves touching the white and black sections of the room equally.
Han Jianyu hesitated to continue forward. In the back of his mind, those whispers lingered. His illusory memories- things he thought were concrete- lingered.
Questions arose.
Did he truly know his parents?
Was it his decision to take up the sword and aim to become aligned with the Sword Dao?
Did he even truly understand the Sword Dao?
Who gave him his sword?
Why?
Swallowing, Han Jianyu pushed all the uncertainty away. He remembered himself, and his sword intent overcame him.
At that moment, all about the walls, strange black flames burned to life. They barely gave off any light, just enough for him to very vaguely see the content of those paintings.
They were incredibly well done, and insanely huge.
Looking closely, Han Jianyu saw something that made him take an involuntary step back.
The very first of those paintings that he could see seemed to be despicting a person holding a sword, dressed in what appeared to be white armor.
However, it was the person's face that stunned him.
Although he couldn't be sure... the person looked shockingly similar to himself.
Gasping, he quickly found all the other paintings, softly illuminated by the black and white lights.
They all depicted similar portraits of people, the only difference being their poses and clothing.
Yet, they all bore that same resemblance.
Han Jianyu wiped his eyes, steeling his resolve.
Unknowingly, something was creeping up the back of his mind, slowly returning to memory.
Han Jianyu took a step up. Then another. And another.
He ascended the steps toward the platform, feeling himself getting higher and closer to the very center of the room.
When he eventually stepped onto the platform...
... everything changed.
The white flames above him blazed furiously, like they were only now being fanned and fueled. They became blazing white suns, each of them.
The entire room lit up, blindingly, its white and black portions becoming plain as day.
His other foot hit the platform, and the black flames blazed as well, their enigmatic essence swallowing some of the white light.
Han Jianyu's breathing was shaky at first, then unsteady the very next second. Eventually, he was entirely out of breath.
Each of the giant paintings lining the three walls were perfectly visible to him now. He even saw things that he had not seen before.
There were words written on plaques beneath each of the paintings.
In just the bright white light, it would have been hard to read those words, but the black flames absorbed just enough of the white light to allow him to read them.
He did, and he was even further unsettled.
One of the plaques read: "Mo Dao, Sword Cultivator. Killed by Heavenly Tribulation."
He read another.
"Fang Yuan, Sword Cultivator. Killed by Heavenly Tribulation."
And another.
"Ji Nian, Sword Cultivator. Betrayed and killed by those He loved."
"Jian Cheng, Sword Cultivator. Failed Dao Integration."
Scanning the room, Han Jianyu fought to keep himself from falling over.
Each of the images were of different people, but all of them looked exactly like him, just at differing ages.
Some were young, others were old and grey- but they were all him.
His face... His eyes...
Then he found the last painting at the far right end.
Han Jianyu took a knee, coldsweat all about him. He clutched his chest, part of him confused as to what he had seen, another part of him confused as to what he was feeling.
That strange thing was still crawling through his mind, as well. Closer now.
That very last painting was not of someone that looked like Han Jianyu.
It was Han Jianyu.
He was dressed in the robes of a student of the Jade College, but had no sword in hand.
As for the plaque, it said...
Han Jianyu; the Destined One.