The Master of the Rising Sun is the first 永懷畋 [yǒng huái tián] meets upon entering the newly made temple grounds.
His family's legacy is what brings him to this mountain.
Descended from a line of war heroes and the Emperor's most trusted generals, Huai Tian is born into a family where his three older brothers are the Crown Prince's advisers and his younger siblings are the house's treasured jewels. He has gold to his name and yet somehow he still found himself shielded from that very same glory promised upon his birth.
His sire names him Tián- hunter, damning him to a life of chasing and hunting in the guise of honouring a warrior spirit long forgotten. He grows into the strategies of warfare, wins countless battles and advises generals like a good man of the house of Yong.
The praise is muted.
He's left chasing for some semblance of fame and finds that that too fades with time.
It is his 四哥 [sì gē, fourth older brother] who ultimately stirs his self-made prophecy.
The newly named Eon, pitches the idea to their father (- his father, their sire): Huai Tian would leave for a year to train under the allusive xiaolin master many have whispered about, gaining a specialized skillset that Eon himself was scouted for. Eon, who has always been the best at everything - from calligraphy to martial arts - who banished himself from his own clan, claims that Yong Huai Tian is destined to be the world's greatest warrior.
Their father looks at him with disbelief but hangs onto Eon's every word.
(of course he would)
Tian doesn't say a word to his older brother as they board their horses, doesn't even meet his eyes after being handed the fur coat their mother has so lovingly sewed and embroidered for her favourite son. No, his fingers don't even twitch as they race through fields and exchange boyish grins.
He is dignified enough to realize that these are gifts made for a brother who's long sworn himself to a life of detachment. A foolish wish to sway him back to a life of meaningless materialism, and he is smart enough to know this hierarchy of gifts passes down to him only out of an absence of a bond that hasn't been visited ever since Eon left the manor.
"You're not coming, sì gē?" The horse peaks at his fingers, his brother lets loose a nervous airy chuckle.
"This is a pilgrimage you must make alone, 阿弟 [a-di, little brother endearment]."
When an oblong head peaks out from behind a wooden pole, claiming that he's been waiting for the arrival of the dragon of -
(the ink blots, eyes close but the stain continues to flow through the motions of the story)
Yong Huai Tian nods and follows him deeper into the temple.
When the voices give him his new name (one that is worthy of a warrior, flowing off his tongue a dialect- no- a language he has not heard before), he accepts it graciously.
This name, however, weighs too heavily on him and Master Dashi allows him to keep his own until he feels he is ready.
"You have all the time in the world, young dragon." The older man says to him after the ceremony, his fingers pressing against his shoulder- a touch more welcome than everything that has came out of Eon's mouth in those past four days.
"Thank you, 师傅[shīfù, master]."
Yong Huai Tian takes the xiaolin vows shortly after. Swearing himself to this righteous life but doesn't take the vow of celibacy.
The older monks might still be fuming about this act of rebellion, he writes to Eon out of habit before crumbling the paper up and throwing it into the fire, but as promised I am only here for the year.
His hand falters over the open flames.
Staring with a heavy heart before turning his attention back to the small table he cleared his dinner from.
The black ink stares at him back, rippling ominously in the silence of the mountain.