A/N: And now the night hunt arc is finally come to a close (more or less) as we enter into the 2nd act of the fic! duhn, duhn, DUUUUUUHN! (Yep, that's right, this fic is an epic monster in length, and tho sporadic updates not withstanding, it is in no way gonna end up abandoned anytime soon - there's been so much plotting/outlining. I've been sitting on that song segment from last chapter for over TWO YEARS, lol. (It's actually a full length song, there are more stanzas, if anyone's interested. You, -spoiler alert- may be seeing bits of it again in later chapters. :) ) And now without further ado, we commence with another chapter long in the making (one of many things I've been planning from the begining and had to wait till we get to it, like so much of this fic, lol), I give you, the next chapter! :)

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Chapter 22: Journal: Entry #1

{There is a battered unassuming book, stained by travel. The pages worn at the edges. Right now, it rests forgotten in a robe pocket. Lying next to its owners chest. Waiting to be taken out once more to be read or written in once again. Inside there are journal entries, telling parts of its owner's story. This is the first one.}

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It's surreal, to be finally off The Mountain.

I still can't quite believe it, even as I am sitting here, writing this.

At this moment, back home, the disciples would surely be sitting at their morning lessons. The last few civilian stragglers making a mad dash for the dining hall before it closed. One of the brothers at our little temple would be out sweeping the stone paths in long, calming strokes. Another gathering with the uncles and aunties to tend the sprawling gardens. The only things harvested being carefully chosen.

Mother would likely be in her study, working on paperwork in a pool of soft sunlight from that one east window that she always left open. Or perhaps pausing in meditation on a way to another location, staring at the tapestry in the great hall – the one that depicts all the disciples. Past and present. Before moving on.

She spends a lot of time looking at that woven web, the silken threads interweaving and glittering in its grand talismanic design. The shining gold of spiritual energy winding through. Except for the parts where the energy has fled. Those parts are duller.

The faded memory all that remains of the vibrant people that they once depicted and described.

Every newcomer gives a spark to their name's thread. A source of hope and light and new beginnings, it can also weigh heavy. Some spots of the tapestry more so than most. Everyone has at least one or two spots, where their eyes tend to linger a touch more, until they move on.

My name is up there. I hope she isn't watching it now, and wondering. But of course she is. Cause that's what she does for everyone. No matter what errand that calls them away, you can be sure that Mother is monitoring their individual thread. She won't stop until they're safe home, or the spiritual energy is cut, their thread growing dark.

That is one of the best and worst things about her.

The air is so different down here.

I'm used to it being, I'm not sure if thinner is quite the right word to describe? There is so much more ambient energy back home than there is here, that you almost don't feel it all. Even if you can see its affects.

Down here everything is constantly changing, it seems on every road or path I pick to go down there's something new! Whether it be the people, architecture, mannerisms, plants, animals, Monsters, it's all so changing! I'd never really registered what accents would really be like until I encountered a new one for the first time! Most new people I meet, aren't really used to being anywhere.

And so few people come to our mountain. Which is kind of the point, it being built in such a secluded place as it was. It's a bit trippy. Especially that first village I walked into, where the dialect had suddenly changed.

I literally tripped when the nearest person opened their mouth and started speaking ! I tripped s traight into a poor old man's cabbage cart. Accidentally knocking them every which way! He kept screaming "my CAAaaABAaaGES!" I felt so bad . He wouldn't even let me help, just kept muttering about 'stupid kids' and how he had 'moved to get away from this shit' and 'a nice earth boy like me wasn't meant for the open sea, but I still did it! And look where it got me' .

My being a cultivator seemed to tick him off even more, cause he started bemoaning 'chi being used to control shit'. I dunno what all that was about. Though thinking back on it, I'm guessing he was cranky for having recently moved? They were very nice cabbages though, so I get whey he'd be mad . Livelihoods are important. The different monies out here are weird. And I've been taking on nighthunts to earn more, or just things to barter with.

Back home, we'd been there so long, there's rarely any beings of resentment that can crop up to cause problems. (I suppose in that way, we excel more in dueling and theoretical knowledge, with a greater focus on core development than most? W hat w ith our lacking in grand nighthunts and neighbors to discuss it with.)

But down here it seems like you can't go a few li without some kind of resentment cropping up, whether it be major or minor.

Th ere is less mist and cool wind in these valleys (I don't know why the cabbage man was so bitter about sudden gusts of air, it had been my own clumsiness, and I'd apologized!) . There's a new bird song on every horizon. With less heady ambient energy, I can feel the eddies and swirls around me. The fascinating patterns, I have come to study most avidly. Such beautiful patterns and endless designs that can be sensed! I am certain that many of my juniors skills would further excel with such diversity to study.

There's so much to see and hear and find! I discovered a new type of spicy pepper by accident yesterday. And I tried sheep milk for the very first time immediately after! (It was a lot sweeter than the goat milk back home).

I met a nice old man who taught me a new dice game. I lost a few coins and never learned his name, but it was a delightful few hours. I also saw a funny looking creature on the road. It had the most gorgeously long f loppy ears. And it was gray and fuzzy all over. With a funny little head of black hair and a tail. It was a young soul, quite content to amble along with its human companion. The woman it was with thought me strange, I think, when I asked what it was called. But said it was a 'donkey'.

I do believe that I love donkeys now.

I know what you must be thinking (ha! As if anyone would be reading this). But I am not some ignorant or completely unlearned youth. We have a large library collected over decades from a vast assortment of area s , with plenty of excellent and well mannered tutors. But even with my twenty-two summers, somehow I had never managed to connect that the drawings in some traveling sketchbooks and encyclopedias, connected with those words! I know, I know. Believe it or not I had heard of a donkey before. But somehow in the retelling, their adorableness just never quite made it across. We never had any, quote 'beasts of burden' (a horrible phrase, truly) on The Mountain. With plenty of reasons for doing so. Only some of which were lack of space, and the ability to carry for ourselves most everything that was needed to, though sometimes the goats helped .

But now I am quite determined. Though I am not in need of additional assistance at this time, once I am more settled in this new life of mine, I shall befriend a donkey. I shall liberate them from cruel masters (if so necessary – the woman at least seemed to be quite beloved), and we shall be partners in all things. We'll share in the planning, and take turns at picking the paths at every other cross roads. And can dine on young vegetables every night. Perhaps with spicy peanuts!

Also, I discovered peanuts. Apparently they didn't grow good near home. Peanuts, are GREAT.

There's so much to see out here. I was just at my first group night hunt. It was near Jin Wu Senlin (though I avoided the village on principle). Truly, I hadn't really expected it. Though I was still disappointed when I could find no news on any of my sect mates when I poked about the area.

It was strange, to walk through those trees. I could kinda see, a little, why some writers might romanticize hauntings.

For so long, the Mountain… it's been the entirety of our world, so few of my martial brothers and sisters ever leave, and most never truly do so. People always return.

"Our solitude is a treasure", that was a founding principle for our little community. The teachers and seniors preach it. Mother most of all. The Mountain is our safe harbor. Our sanctuary and peace.

Everyone was so surprised, when I announced that I'd decided to leave. But I don't know, I just couldn't stand the idea of not knowing. Not seeing for myself what was out there. I know enough to not expect it to be a dream. Maybe this excursion won't end happily at all. But as I told the others, I weighed the risks for the path I've chosen to take. And is it really living, if the only thing stopping you is yourself? Others before me have left without ill fate, and those who had took actions I do not plan to follow in. At this moment, I believe my life is a bit like a corridor. I have the power to open my own door and step out onto that hallway. Whether others will let me in through their doors I cannot say until I reach them. And if they should not? Well, I can always climb in through a window.

There's so much out there . And I'm going to see it ALL .

I'll keep notes of it here, to help keep track . I can tell everyone what happened here, through this later . Mother may enjoy seeing my paintings, the next time I get back. I look forward to showing her, the donkey especially .

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{Immediately proceeding this entry is a collection of quick sketches and detailed paintings of various beings and landmarks, progressing further and further from the mountain. Some of which might be identifiable to the people of those areas. Two full pages are completely dedicated to a jolly fat little donkey. And what appears to be an incomplete attempt at a self portrait – a grinning figure has its arms wrapped around the donkey's neck while squishing their cheeks into its thoroughly mussed mane.}

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A/N: Did I just do a minor unintentional/intentional Avatar: The Last Airbender crossover? -Shakes out kiyoshi warrior fan- I don't know, you know I really don't. (This was not planned at all, lol. I guess Zhou Zhuliu's brothers had a similar taste in proverbs/philosophers as Uncle Iroh (to clarify - there is no connection between Iroh and the Zhous, nor will you be seeing any Atla characters, I just thought this would be funny).

As always, thanks for reading! And thank you to everyone who has followed, favorited, and left reviews (I love reading them! Lemme know what you think of these new chapters!)! Hope you enjoyed, and I'll see you next chapter! :)

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