At its most obvious, a rune was a method of effecting change on the world via the transformation of qi. Except, that was not what a rune was, according the Mingtian’s scroll, merely what it did. One did not call a snake the thing that poisons, despite the truth of the statement— for a snake was so much more than that. One did not describe the spirit of man as merely creative. The truth of it was so much vaster; so much more numinous. Such was the nature of runes, she realized as she read the scroll. They were so much more than merely the vessels of change. Formations were more than an orderly arrangement of runes.

The whole thing… A molecule was an arrangement of atoms, bound by the natural laws of the world and thrust into the ever-transforming sea of energy and existence. Molecules combined to make the esoteric structures fundamental to life, and those esoteric structures combined further to create cells, combined further to create the essence of human existence. So too was it with runes, apparently. Or at least, that’s what the scroll said. She could somewhat trace the argument, but there were parts where she just… didn’t understand. Points of logical incongruity, strange shifts half-banked in something that appeared almost missing from the argument…

She could not know what it was, by the nature of its absence— but just reading through the scroll, she could see the adumbration of its form, and what a grand thing it must have been! An answer, hidden in plain sight.

Before she knew it, night had fallen over the mountain. She’d had to hang up a lighting talisman to keep reading— and she did keep reading, even as weariness slowly clawed its grip onto her. The scroll was just far too fascinating not to.

It was difficult, and advanced, but if she understood the gist of it— the first order runes she’d largely abandoned, those weak, nigh-useless but simple things that tangentially resembled the characters that made up the common tongue, were the simplified essence of the three-dimensional runes. But— Mingtian had argued— were not the three-dimensional runes merely pale reflections of something greater? And if those runes were themselves reflecting something even further beyond… onwards and further, until they reached some impossibly powerful, incomprehensibly broad ur-rune whose singularity could affect anything.

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Practically, the idea was somewhat laughable. Not the first bit— she’d been aware that high-level cultivators were able to do things with runes that were simply not possible for mortals to manage— but the idea of an ur-rune? It was the sort of distant philosophising that she’d always disliked, the pseudo-religious theories of science that had equated cultivation with divinity…

It was Mingtian’s

theory, though, and for that alone she allowed it some leeway. The Master knew what he was doing. He knew things, and even though she didn’t entirely get it… she would trust him, for now. He’d yet to lead her wrong, after all…

Stil, as the moon rose to the zenith of its arc through the sky and she rolled the scroll back up, stretching and feeling each and every sharp pop in her spine as she worked out the kinks she’d gotten for sitting crouched over a scroll most of the day… she sighed, putting it back in its box. Unfortunately, what she’d really wanted was barred from her, apparently— a way to alter the three-dimensional runes she’d made heavy use of in the construction of Avyr’s qi gathering array.

The scroll had been covered in warnings not to attempt it, if she liked staying as more than a smear on the walls of a crater, and she’d— reluctantly— given up on the idea. Temporarily. The moment she was able to comprehend the four-dimensional runes sufficiently enough to work with them, she dive right back in, but that was… maybe she’d be able to manage it as a mortal? More likely, she’d have to ascend to Shedding at least and then spend a bunch of time meditating on the nature of runes, if she followed the methods laid out in the books…

If she did that, she’d be a better formations master than Mingtian, who was still a mortal. Tired as she was, the thought struck her with an almost physical impact— she’d come so far already. It was almost disturbing, the consideration. Even if she’d disliked his theories, just reading his book she could see the sheer amount of genius that went into it. It was like nothing she’d ever heard before, and the thought that she might one day soon surpass its creator… it was chilling.

Or maybe she was just too tired to properly deal with it at the moment. Groaning, she shoved the scroll’s box back into her bag before walking back over to her little campsite, debating whether or not to start the fire again before deciding she was far too tired for that sort of thing and just climbing into her tent instead. She’d deal with that in the morning… and make something good for Avyr, too…

She was asleep in moments.