Chapter Fourteen: Rebirth from Destruction

Jiang Pingchuan inhaled the metallic scent of blood that permeated the water. He felt his eyes begin to bulge, and surges of energy in his head seemed ready to burst through his skull. The tang of blood grew ever stronger around him.

Baring his fangs, his fish face twisted, Jiang Pingchuan darted swiftly into the blood-red region. All he saw was endless crimson; all he smelled was the scent that ceaselessly tempted him toward bloodlust.

It was as if a shadow within him urged him, again and again, to draw nearer to the center of that bloodstained zone, where the temptation was so overwhelming it made his head spin. His eyes were bloodshot, his mind ablaze with a frenetic churn in his veins.

Yet Jiang Pingchuan refused to open his mouth to gulp down the blood-tainted water. Though he ached for fresh blood, deep within he resisted. The temptation was right in front of him; he need only part his lips to satisfy his craving.

But stubbornly, Jiang Pingchuan kept his mouth shut, denying himself the pleasure of indulgence. He fought, tormented, struggling to paddle his fins and retreat toward the edge of the bloody water. He feared that if he lingered, he would no longer be able to suppress the desire burning in his blood, that it would consume his mind and transform him into a mindless, emotionless, fearless slaughterer.

He kept backing away, suppressing his urge as his eyes flickered between clarity and crimson. Just as he was about to escape the bloody region, the red in his eyes surged, overtaking the last vestiges of clarity.

His eyes now glowed with a ghostly crimson fire. His struggles ceased; he no longer tried to leave the bloodstained waters. Jiang Pingchuan stared in bewilderment at himself—he felt trapped. More precisely, he realized that he and his desire had switched places.

The desire he had tried to repress had finally turned on him, now imprisoning his true self. Suddenly, Jiang Pingchuan felt pathetic—he had failed to conquer his own desires.

In that instant, he understood the meaning of “cultivating the heart and understanding the Way.” To cultivate the heart was not to have no heart, but to discipline one’s own mind. To comprehend the Way was to understand the path of the heart itself. To cultivate the heart was to learn to control one’s desires. Yet now, he was the prisoner of his own want. He felt himself pitiful, tragic, even hateful—for he could not master his desires, and had become their instrument.

His body was no longer under his command, but ruled by his cravings. He wanted to awaken, but desire only wished for him to sink deeper, unwilling for him to rise. His body began to swim toward the center of the blood, where the liquid was thickest.

His monstrous fish face twisted as he opened his maw full of fangs and gulped mouthful after mouthful of bloody water. The more he drank, the thirstier he became. His body swelled as he drank, until he had drained every drop from that seemingly endless region of bloodstained water.

When no blood remained around him, Jiang Pingchuan opened his mouth, his fangs exuding a fetid stench, crimson flames burning even brighter in his eyes. His massive nostrils sniffed, and he caught the scent of thousands upon thousands of fish.

Greed flashed in his eyes as he swam toward the black depths—his prey awaited, ready to sate his hunger. He sensed the fish panicking, fleeing in all directions. His swimming slowed as he fought to reclaim control of his body.

He didn’t want to harm those weaker fish, but try as he might, all he could do was slow his pace—he could not regain command over himself.

He watched as he snapped at the shoal, thousands of fish shrieking in terror. Suddenly, Jiang Pingchuan’s tightly closed jaws opened once more. The fish, seeing the gaping mouth not swallowing them, seized the chance to dart out and vanish into the darkness.

Staring at the void before him, Jiang Pingchuan’s monstrous face finally relaxed. If he hadn’t fought so fiercely against his desire, those fish would already have been devoured.

Setting his prey free was to relinquish his own food. His stomach empty, his mouth thick with the taste of blood, Jiang Pingchuan flicked his fins and swam toward the shore. He suppressed his desire, wanting to see if he could leap from the lake.

He thought this was no “Lake of Transcendence”—it was a realm of blood and slaughter. Nearing the shore, he caught another thick scent of blood. Desire flared anew and he rushed toward its source.

There, he saw the monster that had gnawed at his body, now feasting on the enormous green-eyed fish he’d seen before. Sensing Jiang Pingchuan’s approach, the monster recoiled in fear, releasing its prey and attempting to flee.

Jiang Pingchuan’s fish face twisted into a sinister smile as he raced at the creature. It was an octopus. With a single bite, his mouth filled with blood and twitching flesh—the octopus’s tentacles.

Holding the bloody flesh, Jiang Pingchuan watched the octopus’s terrified eyes. Bubbles streamed from his nostrils as he finally gave in to his desire, tearing after the fleeing octopus. He cared for nothing else; all he wanted was to eat every living thing here and then find a way out.

Constant torment assailed him in this place. Jiang Pingchuan darted along the lakebed, scattering every shoal into frantic flight. He began herding the fish, driving them all to the water’s edge.

He looked at the swathes of fish, each radiating its own color, and his monstrous face curled into a wicked grin. All the fish, great and small, stared at him in terror.

He noticed a disturbance among the otherwise silent shoal and felt a twinge of anger—some fish dared play tricks under his very nose. He exhaled a chilling breath, and the fish at the front hurriedly parted to give him passage.

His eyes searched for the source of the disturbance. He saw two tiny fish fry supporting an old, half-dead fish. When they saw him, one of the young fish’s eyes reddened, and it bared its tiny fangs, wagging its tail at him defensively.

Jiang Pingchuan’s eyes blazed red, unable to suppress his desire. He watched the two small fish trying to help the old one escape.

He opened his jaws wide, rows of sharp fangs bared, and roared at the shoal. The fish crowded together, too frightened to flee. With a sweep of his tail, Jiang Pingchuan scattered them, then rammed himself headlong into a black stone, splitting his skull. The water filled instantly with the reek of blood. Greedily, Jiang Pingchuan drank his own blood, battering himself again and again, drinking each time until he felt sated. He was still hungry—he craved flesh.

His bulging eyes stared into the pitch-black water. He knew that beyond lay vast shoals of fish—easy prey—but he refused to go. If he had wanted to hunt there, he wouldn’t have scattered the shoal and let them go.

Jiang Pingchuan wandered, seeking out a sharp rock. Considering his massive body, he began to rub himself repeatedly against a jagged edge. Moaning in pain yet looking almost pleased, he gnawed at his own flesh, relieved that he could satisfy his cravings without having to kill.

As time passed, Jiang Pingchuan’s body became battered and riddled with wounds, stripped of its bulk. His eyes grew sunken and dull.

He devoured his own fins and tail, until only his head and a length of spine trailing viscera remained. Several times he tried to swallow his own entrails and end his life, but it was as if he were cursed—they would regrow each time, and he was never sated, only hungrier.

He wondered if, without a stomach, what he swallowed was not reborn, but simply filtered through his mouth and returned to his spine. His hollow eyes gazed at the distant shore, where a light glimmered.

Jiang Pingchuan tried to move his ruined body at the lake’s bottom, but without fins or tail, not a muscle twitched. He looked at the scattered scales beside him and let out a hollow laugh. His fish mouth trembled, expelling a final mouthful of blood, now stale and rank. He drank it in, as ripples echoed faintly in his ears.

Narrowing his eyes at the thousands of fish drawn by his blood, he shut his eyes tight. He did not choose to devour them, but instead kept gnawing at himself. Now, with nothing left, he had desire but no capital or strength to hunt.

In such a brutal world, powerless to defend or attack, he could only await his fate as prey. He felt fish already darting beneath his body, knew they were about to feast on him. Slowly, his massive head and spine were enveloped by the swarm and began to float upward.

To his astonishment, the fish did not eat him; instead, they lifted his body, carrying him toward the shore. Jiang Pingchuan opened his eyes to see the bank drawing nearer, and that beam of light shining.

Just as he thought he would reach the shore safely, his long-suppressed desire surged once more, trying to seize control of what little remained of his body—even just the fish head.

He saw the shore, just an arm’s length away, and with a flick of his spine, he leapt from the water onto the bank. There, in the glow, sat a young man in meditation—himself. Desire still clawed at his mind, seeking to take over. Jiang Pingchuan gritted his teeth, knowing that desire is born of the heart; as long as the body lives, the heart does not die, and desire endures.

He resolved to devour the source of his desire. Slowly gathering his strength, he lunged into the light, revealing the fangs he’d hidden for so long, and bit down, tearing the meditating youth to pieces, blood flowing in torrents.

Before his jaws crushed the youth, he saw the youth open his eyes from meditation, gazing at him with clear, smiling eyes. Jiang Pingchuan frantically devoured the youth’s remains, feeling his desire weaken with each bite.

When the youth was gone, a shadow appeared before him, its face hideous and hateful. Jiang Pingchuan laughed—this was the desire that had hidden within him, seeking to consume him. He laughed, then grew angry, seeing the unwillingness in the shadow’s eyes.

“Come on, if you’re not reconciled, come! Come on!” Jiang Pingchuan shouted, jabbing a finger at his own head. The shadow, seeing this, shook its head, smiled faintly, then shattered into rainbow-colored sparks that vanished before his eyes.

With a cry, Jiang Pingchuan sat up and found himself at the lake’s center. Beneath his feet, the water was crystal clear, myriad fish swimming unhindered. He reached out and skimmed the water, sending ripples across the surface. The fish leapt in dazzling colors, spraying jets of water; the entire lake came alive.

Standing, Jiang Pingchuan gazed at the shimmering, rippling shore and laughed softly. He bowed deeply to the lakebed, where a pair of crimson eyes glimmered and a tremor passed through the waters. Smiling faintly, Jiang Pingchuan straightened and looked toward the shore.