Chapter 170 - The Chase of Gold and Purple

  Night was long, cold winds stirred even above the clouds, and any sweat that formed turned to ice, falling to the ground in a trail of crystal behind him. The sun was not far from rising.

  He had watched the world cycle and spin, staring blankly, having long lost the energy to make expressions. Broken strings and straps hung from his wrist. They were his only assistance once his fingers tried to give up, and his hands started to bleed from cracked calluses on his finger pads. Even the charcoal was hard to hold—No, more than hard—His fingers trembled, black dust smearing and mixing with the red. It made a fine ink, the color of crushed berries.

  Purple and red. Sunset, dusk, dawn, sunrise. Purple and red, the straps, his fingers and palms, the blood, the ink, the ground.

  My breath is so loud, he shouted to himself, coming to a halt. The Spirit Iron cube fell from his hand, one of the corners tearing the hardened skin of his index finger more. He felt the pain, but didn’t care; the only thing he could focus on was the sound of his breath. The only thing keeping him sane was focusing on holding the charcoal. But the little stick trembled. He was foolish for drawing on the grass; lumps of dirt shoved the charcoal up into his palm, which felt worse than any punch he had received in his short lifetime.

  My breath is so loud! He reached up and scratched at his neck. It had been a while since he had done it, an old habit, nothing more.

  “That’s enough,” Guan said, his voice a gong of clarity. “Junior Brother Hao… After today, I think you should focus on your mind rather than your body; perhaps it was too early to force such training on you. I was hasty, blinded for a moment.”

  The Fifth Elder’s Eldest Disciple reached down and took both the Spirit Iron cubes. They vanished in a blink of white. As Guan came back up, he grabbed the hand Hao was using to scratch with.

  “Cool down and calm your mind while I bandage you.”

  Hao kicked out his legs and crossed them. It wasn’t the first time bandages were wrapped around the pads of his fingers. He closed his eyes; it only took one slow inhale to fall in. It wasn’t much of a struggle to control that one breath. Once he did, they were all perfect—less agitating.

  He ignored all sound, pushed it away, even the footsteps approaching and voices that argued back and forth.

  “I told you, such strong Yin and that’s—”

  “—Beast Force. I know, I know better than you. It's not an oppressive amount, but where would a child like this find a chance to eat a Demonic Beast Core?”

  “Senior… You are lying to yourself. Any Beast Force can be lethal. He probably ate a core while it was bloody like a fool. He has been on hunts before. Two of the people on his old hunting team crawled up to the First Peak for that Bangkai boy’s hunting team recruitment. If he doesn’t follow them up, the Core has already contributed to his heart demon. Can you feel that? It's not just Yin Qi. What kind of hairless brat has such thick bloodlust?”

  “Junior Brother? You seemed to take a liking to him before. Why this now?”

  “A liking isn’t the same as forcing strength into someone with an unsteady heart. He could lose control—”

  All the sound in the world melted into soft flowing ribbons of purple and red Qi. They drew faces. Mo Bangcai. The First Elder. Pao Taoyi. Even Daoist Silver Steps far in the distance, faintly flickering. The larger the faces got, the thicker the Qi and the more details he could remember of them. It was cold. The Frost Feline Demonic Beast, abhorrent and deformed with its great paws and greater claws, walked in and struck through them with its tail, the white whip becoming a monstrous malformation of eyes looking down at him.

  The Demonic Beast stood above him, staring down. Sword-like teeth grew in number as it pulled its bottom jaw towards its chest. He wanted to move but couldn’t. He was trapped in a dream. Underwater, the tides and pressure pushed against him.

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  It had been a long time since he saw a vision in Meditation. None had been like this before.

  Hao fought to move. As he did, his seated form grew to match the Demonic Beast in size. He looked into its eyes. They were golden brown like his father's—No, like his.

  “Senior Brother. The last thing someone with so many flaws needs is to be brought to their brink!”

  “That’s what you and Master refuse to understand. Bringing someone to the brink is the best way to grow quickly. The First Elder and his faction continue to grow like this… but if I knew this would happen.”

  “You have to seal his cultivation, break his dantian.”

  Hao felt a blast of wind, a gathering of pressure, but it didn’t faze him. Something on the Demonic Beast’s head held his attention. A golden feather—No, it was a blade of grass? It was growing, getting thicker, taller, until petals rose and fell, then rose again. A hot, sweet scent filled his nose.

  Yellow-Yellow Grass from the Secret Realm? He wondered, his voice echoing in the void all around him.

  The petals closed, and the air started to boil. The demonic beast flinched as he strained to reach out. The bulb was small in his hand, but the heat it warped the air and scorched his palm red, boiling him. He would never forget the feeling.

  “Senior Brother, get back. Something is…”

  “Such strong Yang Qi, Que, perhaps both of us were hasty in our judgment today.”

  “Senior. It's better to—”

  —Shush. I won’t hear it. If you want to cripple someone, go ask the Master for permission; if not. Help me.”

  Hao pulled the bulb. Golden Qi exploded out, flickering and snapping like a serpent, striking around the Demonic Beast and lashing the purple Qi. He had seen the dance somewhere other than the void. In many places, the first to come to mind was the Day-Night Amethysts.

  The two fought and consumed each other, slowly fading until the void was black again. But it undulated and writhed, like tentacles under tumultuous waves. Tides rising and falling, like the ocean was a blanket, being fought for.

  Hao opened his eyes. All of it faded, like it was a dream. He tried to hold its frayed edges, details and words fading, but it was as useful as grabbing smoke. It was gone.

  His eyes focused in and found Senior Brother Que standing beside Senior Brother Guan. The junior of them, Que, with a long needle in his hands.

  Guan pushed his sibling disciple back, “Junior Brother Hao. Do you feel better now?”

  Hao rose to his feet, the wide-bodied Senior Brother helping him. He nodded. “Better than normal. My foot and hands throb, and I’m sore all over,” he yawned. The first yawn in a long time.

  Guan smiled. “Better,” he repeated, breaking into a laugh. “That is good to hear,” he said, looking back at Senior Brother Que, who nodded and put the needle up his sleeve.

  “Ha! Junior Brother Hao, why don’t we call it quits here until we get another chance. You should be proud of what you achieved. A lot of fortification with more to be done, as long as you practice.” He paused for another laugh, but this one was quieter. “I have things I want to do on the peak before others rise. You might have inspired me to do some spiritual cultivation for the first time in a while. Little Que can take you to the Second Peak when you are ready.”

  Guan patted Hao on the shoulder. “You should head back to the old bathing quarters first.”

  Hao nodded. It would be best if he made himself presentable. Not purely on the Second Elder’s behalf, but it was only right to make himself presentable for a lady of her standing…

  He looked down at his hands as Guan turned away. Both his fingers trembled around the waxy red Boiling Blood fruits that were suddenly pressed into his palms.

  Hao gulped, a little fearful, “Senior… What can I do to repay you?”

  “Let us just say you owe this old Senior Brother of yours.” Guan said, his voice unexplainably giddy, “Unless you can find a chunk of Spirit Iron, but you need the luck of someone who can tame Yin and Yang for that.”

  Hao squinted. He thought the comment was strange, but he asked about Yin and Yang control for physical cultivation yesterday. As Guan disappeared into the long shadows of the burgeoning red horizon, he looked to Senior Brother Que. The Younger of the Fifth Elder’s male disciples seemed to be in the opposite mood from his Senior. His eyes were deep with suspicion. His cheeks and brow creased with the tension of a hidden scowl.

  “Senior Brother Que? Is there a problem on the peak?” Hao asked, but there was a feeling in his stomach that he knew why the man in his glasses frowned. But the idea or words seemed muddy.

  “No,” Que sighed. He looked down and rubbed his brow. The tension faded. “You should eat, Senior Brother said you had food for yourself. There is a fire pit over there. Rest a while longer, take your time. I will meet you at the side entrance of the Pagoda after sunrise. You know the way to the old baths now.”