In front of the Xiao clan library the air was tense. Xiao Lian, now enraged by Xiao Yun’s proposal, almost blew him to smithereens. But she stopped. Her hand trembled inches from his face. She saw no fear in his eyes. No panic. Only a profound stillness. It was this that stayed her hand more than any fear of repercussion. He was not reacting like the boy she knew. He would be cowering in fear by now, ready to piss himself.

  That was mainly because Jack was in pure awe of such a display. Reading about it and seeing it in animated shows is one thing, experiencing it for yourself is something else entirely. It was a dangerous yet magical experience. ‘So, this is what Qi pressure from a higher ranked cultivator feels like.’ It was like standing near a small yet continuous explosion, the force of which was constantly rattling your bones.

  With a cry of pure, undiluted rage and frustration she spun around and slammed her glowing open palm into the table. The table didn't just crack, it exploded into a shower of woodchips and dust. Without another word she stormed away, her powerful stride eating up the ground like a whirlwind of incandescent fury.

  Xiao Yun sat amidst the debris, calmly picking a small piece of woodchip from his sleeve. He let out a long breath.

  “It can’t hurt to try and help someone overcome their traumas’ - my ass! She almost blew my head off!...Phew - who knew trying to play the role of a therapist in a Xianxia setting would be so dangerous…Should I look for another candidate, or should I scrap this plan entirely? After all, the next person might not have her level of self-control.”

  While Xiao Yun was contemplating, one of the legs of his old chair snapped off, causing him to fall over backwards into the woodchips. It was most likely damaged by Xiao Lian’s outburst earlier and could only endure Xiao Yun’s weight for a small period. He laid there for a short while, calmly staring at the clouds and contemplating his ridiculous existence before slowly getting up from the pile of broken furniture and dusting himself off without a change in expression, he then proceeded to his courtyard. His plans needed some additional revising and he needed a bath, a good meal and some rest. He’d be back to his scheming after he was rejuvenated. After all, he couldn’t just lay down and wait for a random offended young master to come along a wipe off everyone in his clan because the pet squirrel of a random clan member looked at him the wrong way.

  …For three days, Xiao Lian was a caged beast. She tried to train, but her Qi was a chaotic torrent in her veins, lashing out against her meridians. Memories she had spent almost twenty years burying under a mountain of discipline and denial were now clawing their way to the surface.

  Sleep offered no escape. She was haunted by nightmares of a rain-slicked battlefield, the clang of steel, the stench of blood and a face, a face she had once trusted twisting into a mask of betrayal. She would wake up with a silent scream caught in her throat, her body drenched in a cold sweat, the residual pain of the blow that gave her the scar aching with renewed intensity.

  During the day she paced her courtyard, her mind a warzone. A few female disciples of the clan who were her admirers came to visit her, in hopes of getting close or maybe receiving a few pointers in their cultivation or martial arts. But as they approached, they saw her courtyard resembling an actual warzone, destroyed training dummies and broken stone laying everywhere. Sword scars coated the entire courtyard. The moment they saw the look of absolute fury in Xiao Lian’s eyes, the female disciples scurried away, afraid she would take her anger out on them.

  ‘It was a trick’ Thought Xiao Lian. A ploy by the cunning brat to humiliate her further. Maybe someone else had put him up to this. He would broadcast her shame to the entire clan, cementing her status as a broken failure. Or he would try to make her do his bidding by blackmailing her after extracting some embarrassing information.

  But then a different voice, a quieter and more desperate one would whisper in the back of her mind. What if he’s right? What if he’s telling the truth? His knowing demeanor, his certainty. His words about the memory, about the root cause, they had struck a chord of truth so deep within her it terrified her.

  Could she endure another decade like this? Watching younger, less talented cultivators surpass her? Feeling her own potential slowly wither and die inside her? Growing old and gray, forever stuck on the threshold of true power, a monument to wasted talent?

  The night of the fourth day was moonless and heavy. Xiao Lian stood before the polished surface of a water barrel in her courtyard. She stared at her reflection. She saw the fierce warrior, the strong build and the sword-calloused hands. But she also saw the exhausted woman in her mid-thirties, the haunted look in her eyes and the ugly silver scar that was an outward symbol of the even uglier one on her soul.

  She could not go on like this. The risk of humiliation was great, but the prison she was already in was a slow and certain death.

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  As dawn broke Xiao Lian made her decision. She washed her face, donned a clean set of training clothes and strapped her sword to her back and went off to find Xiao Yun. She approached a couple servants who were unenthusiastically sweeping the cracked cobblestones and inquired about his whereabouts.

  “He must be in the Pavilion of Ancestral Wisdom. He spends all his time there these days. Not even going out to visit brothels anymore. He barely comes out and even then, he returns there soon after, lady Lian.” – answered one older female servant respectfully.

  Xiao Lian curtly thanked the servant and headed towards the library with a thoughtful expression and complicated feelings in her heart. She strode through the quiet manor halls, her steps echoing too loudly in the silence, her mind a whirlwind of doubt and determination. Approaching the library, she saw that the destroyed table was cleared away. The two weeping willows before the pagoda swayed gently, their leaves a softly rustling murmur as she approached the ancient iron doors. Her hand that was calloused from years of wielding a blade reached for the heavy iron handle. The weight of a decade’s stagnation, the raw anxiety of revisiting her deepest pain and the sheer desperation of trusting the 'useless' Xiao Yun, all combined to infuse her movement with an unconscious force.

  CRAAAANG!

  Instead of opening with a gentle creak the iron doors slammed inward with an almighty groan, their momentum carrying them wide and reverberating through the cavernous space, shaking the dust off the shelves.

  Within the library's gloom, a figure slumped over a bunch of scattered scrolls at a central reading desk was jolted awake. He scrambled up, scattering several more scrolls to the floor. His messy hair further disheveled, his eyes wide with surprise. He blinked, adjusting to the sudden intrusion, one hand instinctively reaching for a non-existent sword or something he could put between the would-be assailant and himself. When he finally focused, he saw Xiao Lian silhouetted in the doorway, her imposing figure framed by the weeping willows outside.

  Her usually stoic face was a canvas of conflicting emotions. Her brow furrowed, her lips pressed into a thin line and usually sharp eyes held a hesitant, almost pleading quality. The scar on her cheek seemed to deepen in the dim light. She looked away, clearing her throat roughly.

  “Xiao Yun…” she began, her voice hoarse, “I-I heard a noise. Just checking.” It was a transparent lie, and both of them knew it.

  Xiao Yun having fully recovered from the fright, picked up a fallen scroll, neatly rolling it. He waited patiently.

  The silence stretched, thick with unspoken words. Xiao Lian shifted her weight, her gaze flickering to the piles of scrolls around Xiao Yun then back to his face. "You said you could help…" she finally blurted out, the words tumbling out in a rush, as if she feared they would choke her if she held them back any longer. Her shoulders slumped ever so slightly. "…with the heart demon. I'm willing to try your method." Her voice was barely a whisper towards the end, laced with a vulnerability she rarely allowed anyone to witness. The admission felt like tearing open her very soul.

  Xiao Yun didn’t gloat or smirk. He simply nodded, his gaze steady and understanding. He was mainly happy that she wasn’t there to beat him up. After all it wasn’t that rare for people of this world to do whatever they felt like if they had the strength to back it up. Within the clan, only the elders could stop her since they were already in the Foundation Building Realm, and maybe the head guard, who was also a peak Qi Condensation Realm cultivator. It was doubly lucky that she was here to accept his earlier proposal, since it meant that he didn’t have to look for another candidate, and he wouldn’t get beaten up.

  From his time on Earth he’d stumbled through enough self-help articles and taken a few basic psychology classes in college. He knew what a "heart demon" most likely was in this world: a deep-seated mental trauma, a cognitive scar that manifested as a block in a cultivator's spiritual path, a tangible projection of inner turmoil. And he knew just the thing for it, Behavioral Cognitive Therapy. Facing ones deepest fears and most painful memories voluntarily helped to lessen their grip over you. Additionally, he had some personal experience in the matter.

  "Thank you for coming Xiao Lian." he said softly with a voice devoid of any judgment. "Please, come in. The light isn't great, but it will do for now." He gestured to a cleared space beside a rickety table, moving some more scrolls to make room.

  Xiao Lian stepped inside, the iron door creaking shut behind her, sealing them into the quiet and dusty sanctuary. The faint scent of ancient paper and the lingering memory of the weeping willows' fragrance filled the air. She sat, her strong frame seeming a touch more fragile in the dim light.

  "So," she began, her voice regaining some of its usual steel, "you said you had a way? Are we to meditate on ancient scriptures? Perform some ritualistic cleansing? Drink some concoction? Recite the Heart Calming Mantra?" She crossed her arms, a defensive posture.

  Xiao Yun shook his head gently. "No, we're just going to talk. We're going to unravel the knots in your mind one by one. Think of it less as a mystical ritual and more as a meticulous examination of your innermost thoughts." He paused, choosing his words carefully, translating Earth concepts into Xianxia terms that might resonate. "A heart demon as you know, isn't just a random burst of chaotic energy. It's born from a specific event, a moment where your spirit was fractured, and your thoughts became twisted. It feeds on those twisted thoughts, those negative patterns."

  "Twisted thoughts?" Xiao Lian scoffed, though a flicker of curiosity played in her eyes. "My thoughts are clear. The demon simply overwhelms them."

  "Perhaps," Xiao Yun conceded, "but sometimes, the demon tells us lies, and we unknowingly believe them. These lies become the roots feeding its growth. My method is about identifying those lies, challenging them and replacing them with truth." He leaned forward slightly. "Tell me, Xiao Lian, what was the exact moment your heart demon manifested? When you tried to break through to Foundation Building realm, what happened? What did you see, what did you feel, and most importantly, what did you think about yourself and your abilities in that moment?"