Words and Deeds

He stood on the ruins and heard his own words breaking. The sound was very soft, like the first crack under the ice, like the last dead leaf being crushed by the wind in the depth of winter. It is not in the ears, but deep in the bone marrow, in the darkest corner of the soul, peeling off inch by inch. Yan Wuji lowered his head and looked at his hands. The "Tao Seed" in the palm of his hand was fading. The light that was once as warm and moist as jade is now like a dying charcoal fire, flickering on and off, dimming every time it flickers. Cracks spread from the center of the seed core, covering the entire palm like a spider web, and then climbed up the forearms, shoulder blades, and chest—— His Word is dying. … "You don't have the Tao," the old man said, "so you can see the Tao."