Ishin focused on his seven-layered chakra. Within his mind’s eye he perceived it as a glowing sphere of living lightning with seven distinct layers. Electric energy rippled across the chakra’s radiant surface. The exterior shook with instability, desperate to release the accumulated power. Within, the individual layers trembled, struggling to maintain their structure.

  All I need to do is shatter the inner layers.

  He knew that removing the layers would further free the entrapped power at the chakra’s center and would trigger his tribulation. However, seeing how fragile the outer shell of his chakra was—even thickened to its limits—he feared the release of constrained power might shatter it.

  No wonder Mei said failing my tribulation would damage my chakra. That energy must be used to form my second chakra.

  Ishin feared that his chakra would be fractured if the stored energy had nowhere to go. He took a deep breath and steadied his resolve.

  No more time for doubt.

  With a flex of his will, Ishin shattered the innermost layer. His will slammed through it like a sledgehammer colliding with glass. It broke easily, weakened by the constant strain of the stored energy. Immediately, the energy flooded against the second inner layer, and Ishin felt it collide against the relatively thin wall.

  When he shattered the next layer, it was even easier than the first. Again, the trapped energy impacted the next layer, degrading it. Each successive shattering resulted in the same, and by the time Ishin reached the sixth and final inner layer, it broke with the merest touch of his will. When the accumulation struck the outer seventh layer—and now only layer—Ishin felt the impact through his entire soul.

  His mind and spirit were flung away as though blasted through endless darkness. After a disorienting propulsion, he fell flat on his face within a white void.

  Ishin groaned as he rose to his feet. That was surprising.

  My body is here?

  Looking down, he saw his legs, arms, and even his red and black Crimson Abyss robes. He touched his limbs and face just to make sure, and it felt like his true body.

  I can feel myself. Is this part of my tribulation?

  Ishin looked around and saw nothing but an endless white void. There was no wind, no scent in the air, and no trace of worldly sensation. Even looking down, it felt like he was standing on a solid surface, but he saw nothing but white beneath him. He bent down and rapped a knuckle beside his foot. It collided with something hard but made no noise.

  Huh.

  He stomped on the invisible surface and felt no rebounding force, nor did he elicit any sound.

  Very strange. He continued surveying his empty surroundings. So my inner world is a white void. Not what I expected.

  Ishin hadn’t been taught what to expect from his tribulation, but his mother had warned him that, because of his bloodline, it would prove more challenging than normal. He scratched his chin.

  If only I knew what a normal tribulation entailed. I hope I’m not just trapped here for eons. I think I’d go mad.

  With no better options, he began walking. He continued for what felt like hours until, eventually, he caught a glimpse of something not white up ahead in the distance.

  Thank the Heavens.

  Invigorated by the discovery, he ran forward. Curiously, he still needed to breathe and could feel his muscles strain as he moved. Whatever this tribulation entailed, the limits of physique still applied. When Ishin arrived at the other existence in his inner world, he was surprised.

  Standing before him was a twenty-four-foot-tall cobalt iron gate, wrapped in an intricate series of purple and black chains. The gates weren’t just cobalt; they radiated a destructive blue aura, seemingly held in check by the shimmering chains engulfing them.

  What is this?

  At first Ishin thought the crackling aura was lightning qi, perhaps a manifestation of his bloodline. But when he took a step closer, his spirit reeled in alarm. The blue aura wasn’t lightning qi but a different form of raw power. Ishin leapt several feet back, aware that the radiating destruction would eviscerate him if he touched it.

  The cobalt gate began to shake, causing the layers of chains to rustle under the strain. A bestial groan came from behind the gate, and Ishin knew he did not want to encounter whatever was inside.

  If this is my tribulation, then the Heavens have cursed me.

  As the gates continued to tremble, engravings that Ishin hadn’t noticed before began to glow an alabaster color, partially concealed beneath the purple and black chains.

  Is that a maw?

  Patterns that could only be described as a series of sharp fangs became more visible across the top and bottom of the gate. The image gave Ishin the impression that whatever was inside was trying to escape to devour him, only kept in check by the chains.

  Ishin took a few more steps back, preparing to run.

  What in the world is behind that gate?

  Shaking his head, he decided he didn’t care. He turned to flee—only to come face to face with a ten-foot-tall oval mirror.

  What?

  Ishin looked the mirror up and down and confirmed that yes, it was a mirror. There was even a reflection of him copying his movements.

  Now there’s a mirror. I have a gate trapping a monster and a mirror inside my inner world.

  He then realized that the bestial noise from the gate had quieted. He turned and saw that the gate had vanished.

  That’s weird.

  He looked back and saw that the mirror was still there, which was something. Cautiously, Ishin stepped forward and tapped a finger against the mirror’s surface. His finger met the mirrored action of his reflection against the smooth glass.

  Still here.

  Ishin withdrew his finger, rubbing it. It felt cooler from touching the mirror. A moment later, he realized that his reflection had stopped mirroring his movements. The mirrored version of him pressed a finger to the glass—then pushed through the surface.

  Immediately Ishin retreated and assumed a defensive stance. Cracks formed across the glass before it quickly shattered. An identical copy of Ishin stepped through the frame.

  “Greetings,” his clone spoke in a perfect copy of his own voice.

  Ishin retained his defensive stance. “Hello.”

  He’s a perfect copy of me, scars and all.

  “Cautious as always,” the clone remarked. It smiled. “Good.”

  “Good?”

  “Yes. It means you’re ready.” The clone held out a hand. The shards of glass melted into a pool of reflective liquid that drifted beneath the outstretched palm. Then a reflective metallic rod began to swell upward from the pool, forming into the clone’s grip.

  Not a rod, Ishin realized. A spear!

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  The consolidated liquid had indeed formed a metal spear with engravings etched upon its shaft. It was one Ishin recognized.

  That’s the spear I brought with me to Tyrant’s Rest!

  He’d been sad when he’d lost the spear, as it had belonged to his family for years.

  The clone’s red and black robes ruffled as well. When they settled, they were the green and silver of the Daihu Tribe. Not just that—a purple obi around the waist appeared. Finally, as Ishin had expected, the scars across the clone’s face vanished.

  Ishin couldn’t help but grin with disdain. “Well, what do you know. It’s a version of me from before I became a cultivator.”

  The Ishin clone twirled the spear and executed a perfect version of the Daihu Tribe’s first spear stance. “You’re smiling. Do you enjoy seeing your past self that much?”

  “It’s amusing to see what I was like back when I was weak.”

  The clone left the stance, standing straight. “Weak?”

  “Weak.”

  Nodding, the clone asked, “And what has cultivation given you? Scars. The death of friends. The loss of your mother.”

  Ishin’s grin evaporated. “Her death wasn’t my fault. It was yours!”

  The clone’s eyes narrowed. “Because I was weak?”

  “Yes!”

  Pointing the spear at Ishin, the clone stated, “If I’m so weak, then prove it.”

  Ishin snorted. “So I take it this is my tribulation. Fine!” He looked around for a weapon of his own but found nothing. “Do I at least get a weapon?”

  Lowering the spear, the clone answered, “You didn’t have one when you began the tribulation. For all the power you claim cultivation has given you, it’s left you unarmed.”

  Ishin sneered at the unscarred face—his face back when he was weak. “If that’s what’s needed to reach the Adept Realm, then so be it. I’ll defeat you as is!”

  This arrogant copy of me. He doesn’t realize how inferior he is.

  The clone took up an offensive stance that Ishin recognized as the one he’d used when dueling Pan Feng months ago.

  Another insult to who I used to be.

  Grinding his teeth, Ishin pointed his fingers at the weaker version of himself.

  I’ll end this with a single Indigo Sky Bolt.

  But when he tried to cycle his qi in the proper technique pattern, he found that he had no chakra or qi to draw upon. His eyes went wide in shock.

  What!

  The clone lunged, and Ishin ducked to the side at the last second to avoid being impaled.

  Where’s my chakra? My qi?

  “What’s the matter?” his past self mocked. “You look surprised.” It made another thrust, a perfect execution of Ishin’s own technique.

  Ishin stepped left and instantly realized his mistake. The clone shifted the thrust to a swing, swiping the tip of the spear at him. Ishin brought up his right arm at the last minute but felt the sting of the spear tip scrape across his limb. His right sleeve split open, and blood dripped from the gash across his arm.

  The clone twirled the spear before bringing it back into the neutral fifth spear stance. “How many times have you used that technique against others? Yet now you fall victim to it.”

  Ishin grimaced from the pain but otherwise ignored his bleeding limb. “Shut up!”

  “Angry at yourself?”

  This guy.

  The taunts grated. If this was his tribulation, it was frustrating.

  Why don’t I have my cultivation?

  He considered his bleeding arm. It ached with the pain a true injury would bring. Ishin took a deep breath, forcing his mind to calm.

  Still, it’s not as painful as when the Sun Tiger scarred my face.

  For all the clone chided him, that version of himself hadn’t undergone the pain Ishin had experienced as a cultivator. But that begged the question—why was he fighting himself? Especially this version of himself.

  Do I have to defeat my past self to overcome my tribulation? Will I fail if I die?

  “You’ve recovered your composure,” the younger Ishin complimented. “Glad to see that we’ve still retained that facet, if nothing else.”

  His voice now steady, Ishin countered, “You speak as though I’ve become inferior now that I can cultivate.”

  “Haven’t you?”

  Blood from Ishin’s arm continued to drip onto the white void beneath him. “Not at all. I’ve become far stronger.” He held out his arms. “I’m no longer helpless.”

  “Helpless?” The clone darted forward, executing several rapid thrusts. Ishin was forced to dodge left, right, back, left—on and on—in a desperate attempt to avoid being killed.

  “If you’re not helpless, then why are you only on the defensive?”

  Ishin moved back and to the right, narrowly avoiding another thrust that pierced through the loose fabric of his robe at the waist.

  I could fight back if I had a weapon or could cultivate.

  It would be a simple matter to cycle qi to his limbs and quickly overwhelm the clone.

  Just like Pan Feng did in our duel.

  The clone thrust at his chest and Ishin moved left. But the thrust was a feint, another of Ishin’s usual tactics. Instead, the clone twirled the spear and brought the end of the shaft down on Ishin’s head.

  “Aagh!”

  There was no time to rest; the clone smoothly transitioned into another thrust. This time, Ishin dodged by rolling onto the ground, moving away from the younger copy.

  “Pathetic,” the clone chided. It made no attempt to pursue. “What happened to you? Can you really not fight without your cultivation?”

  Ishin knelt, breathing hard, as he touched the bruise on his head gently.

  “Be quiet.”

  The clone rested its spear against the invisible surface. “Oh? Since when are you afraid of the truth?”

  “I’m not,” Ishin rasped between breaths.

  “Yet here you are, lying to yourself. Without your cultivation you can’t even fight back. Your past self”—it gestured at itself—“this version, would have done something more than retreating.”

  He’s right.

  As much as Ishin hated to admit it, it was true. He rose. His head still ached from the blow, but he ignored the pain.

  I’ve done nothing but dodge and retreat after my Indigo Sky Bolt failed.

  Something in his expression must have caught the clone’s attention. “Have you had a change of heart?”

  Ishin ignored the question.

  Back when I fought Pan Feng, I relied on skill. When I fought in the Dueling Pits it was the same. My strength isn’t just from my cultivation, but from my martial training—from my skill with the spear.

  He felt something within his spirit stir at that.

  When did that change? Was it at the Eight Oaths Resolve School? Or during the Exhibition Tournament?

  He’d lost when sparring against Lei back when he first joined the school. Even during the tournament, he’d needed to rely on his lightning techniques to achieve victory against stronger opponents. He used the Pale Azure Lightning Force Strike to defeat Chu Winxi in the semifinals.

  No. Even before that, I relied on my qi.

  It was only thanks to his Indigo Sky Bolt that he had earned his place on the Exhibition Team when he defeated Ouyang Xue.

  Has it been that long since I relied solely on my martial talent?

  Throughout his internal reflection, the clone waited patiently.

  Have I forgotten the foundation I established before becoming a cultivator? The origins of my Immortal Path.

  Once again Ishin eyed the spear in the clone’s hands. He’d relied on the spear long before he became a cultivator. He’d almost beaten a cultivator with just the spear.

  Ishin’s fingers twitched at the thought of holding the familiar weapon. His Immortal Path wasn’t just based on cultivation, but the spear too. His sole Dao currently was the Spear Dao—the foundation of his martial path. His spirit stirred again at that truth. It resonated—mind and soul.

  I don’t need my cultivation to beat him. There is only one thing I’ve ever needed. My spear!

  A silver aura radiated out from Ishin, causing the clone’s expression to shift to surprise. Ishin extended his hand and waited for the silver aura to accumulate in his palm. This wasn’t qi; it was something else—an embodiment of his Immortal Path. Something far more vital to who he was than just his cultivation.

  A spear of pure silver manifested in his hand. The surface of its shaft was smooth and comforting beneath his grip.

  This is what I need.

  He twirled the weapon. It felt more right, more natural, than any spear he’d ever held.

  This weapon…it’s not made of metal or wood.

  Ishin snapped the weapon into place.

  Is this a manifestation of my will, or is it the embodiment of my Dao?

  “What an impressive weapon you have,” the clone said, drawing Ishin’s attention back. The clone readied itself to attack. “But a martial is more than just their weapon. Do you have the skill necessary to properly use it?”

  The clone came at Ishin, extending its spear to strike at his face. Ishin brought up his spear and grazed the edge of its shaft against the approaching tip. He deflected the spearhead aside and then snapped the butt of his spear at the clone’s face. The clone, matching his own reflexes, managed to bring its shaft up to block.

  “Better,” it admitted, as the two pressed their spear shafts against each other.

  He’s just as skilled with the spear as I am.

  Ishin shoved against the clone and both broke free, moving several feet apart.

  This time, Ishin charged. He made a series of thrusts that the clone dodged before stabbing back at him. For several seconds the two traded strikes. Most were avoided, but occasionally both Ishin and his clone landed grazing attacks. When they separated, both bore shallow cuts along their bodies.

  He’s good, Ishin thought, bringing his spear up to defend against any further attacks. But of course he is. He’s me.

  Sure enough, the clone charged. It thrust at his shoulder, but Ishin dodged. Then it aimed at his right foot, but Ishin knocked it aside with the butt of his spear and thrust at the clone’s throat. The clone moved its head to the side, saving itself from certain death. After another series of exchanges, the two separated once more.

  The question is, how can I defeat myself?