NOVEL NEXT B2 Chapter 20
Hu Weimin shivered beneath the combined gazes of almost two thousand daoists. The weight of their attention burned down on him like a legion of judging suns. He could feel them dissecting his every twitch, divining his future in every minute fluctuation of his qi. What his talent was worth, how far he might go. His future master might be in the stands even now, watching, waiting, for an initiate to show themselves worthy of his legacy. That was the true value of making it to the main stage. Noble scions fought for glory. But real glory wasn't something that a man like Hu Weimin could grasp. A year ago, he would not have understood that. His blade could easily lay low a dozen mortal men.
The Hu Weimin who'd been tested by an outer disciple of the Azure Mountain would have thought that the height of power. How could anyone stand up to a sword that could not be blocked or parried? Even the county magistrate would need to watch his tongue in the presence of a man who could reap his thugs like wheat.
Standing in the center of a crater that was deep enough that the sun did not crest its edge until late morning, it was difficult to maintain such delusions. The Patriarch of the Azure Mountain might be a legend, but Elder Lu and Elder Xun were all too real. His Formless Blade could not hope to contest with strength that could shatter stone, or men that could shrug off such blows, to say nothing of the speed his eyes struggled to track, or the magics that driven hundreds of disciples to their knees from the far side of a barrier.
Before his eyes, the damage repaired itself. None of the three daoists casting the spell even asked that he move. The stone just flowed like water, rising up beneath his feet.
No, Hu Weimin understood all too well his place in this new world. The moment he'd placed his hand upon the testing stone had changed every detail of his fate without ever meaningfully altering the truth of it. Whether as a farmer or a daoist, he had the freedom to shape his own future, but he would never be free of the shadows cast by greater men.
The stone stopped moving. The crater was filled, the arena flattened once more. The three daoists leapt back to the stands, all but flying. What was his small strength, before that?
Hu Weimin bent, half-kneeling. He ran fingers along the floor of the arena. The stone was so very smooth beneath his fingers, far more so than it'd been on the lower stages. It would slick nicely, when wetted. He'd just have to hope the rumors about the monkey having the strength to tear up the ground were exaggerated.
Hu Weimin straightened as his opponent crested the edge of the arena. He still could not quite believe it. Seven noble scions. Twenty four disciples of common birth. And one monkey. But he'd set aside disbelief forever when Outer Disciple Feng Wen had first told him that he had the potential to cultivate immortality. If this could be his life, what right had he to doubt any strange turn of fate?
Hu Weimin's first impression of Li Hou, was that blue was not the monkey's color. Much of its fur was a rusty red, but its head was a bright orange. In the bright blue robes of the Azure Mountain, the impression was like seeing a sunset reflected upon still water. It was not an unappealing combination of colors, but it was rather eye-searing when draped across a human figure.
And the monkey did cut a human figure. It stood and moved like a parody of a man, almost bouncing from one foot to the other as it made its way toward him. It was a little too short, its arms a little too long, its back a little too curved. Even with its face and hair covered, it would never pass as a man. A hunch-backed youth, at best. But it looked far more human than it had when Hu Weimin had seen it in passing, eight months ago.
Daoist Scouring Medicine had wrought a remarkable transformation indeed upon his disciple. Hu Weimin was not so desperate as to submit himself to a process as dangerous as that one was rumored to be. It was said the monkey had all but died, and only been revived by the intervention of Elder Weeping Lotus herself. But seeing the monkey's transformation in person drove home his need for a master of his own. Talent and effort had carried him far, but every breakthrough he attempted was more difficult than the last. He had so many questions about the limitations of his Formless Blade, and how he might transcend them.
Daoists did not descend to the level of competing over disciples. A choice of masters was an almost unimaginable luxury. Hu Weimin dared not hope for such a thing. But if he proved himself here, he hoped that at least one daoist would consider teaching him.
The monkey bounded to a stop opposite Hu Weimin. The center of the main stage was a massive expanse of featureless stone, raised above the other platforms by the height of a man. After the crater the elders had left had been smoothed over, there was only a single interruption of that flat expanse. A circle, carved into the center of the arena, marking the distance that disciples were expected to stand from each other. Six paces, from center to edge. Twelve paces between them. Controlling and maintaining that distance would be critical to his victory.
"Greetings, fellow daoist." Li Hou said, offering a martial salute. The monkey's words were formal and sober, if a little presumptuous, considering their low statures. Its bow was perfect. But its voice undercut the effect. Eager, gleeful, almost irreverent. Hu Weimin felt like it was smirking at him, from behind its sleeves.
"Greetings, Disciple Li Hou." Hu Weimin said, returning the monkey's bow. "I have heard stories of your victories."
The monkey's head tilted to the side. Then it smiled, broad and unguarded. Hu Weimin almost flinched. Those were some very prominent teeth.
"I've heard of you too!" It chittered. "Water sword. Very clever."
"I call it the Formless Blade."
"Good name. Very intimidating." The monkey said approvingly. It looked him up and down, then blinked. "You have a gourd too! Wine?"
Hu Weimin looked down at the gourd by his side. He had four actually, but the other three were partially concealed. Behind his back, beneath his outer robe, bound together by a rope. He desperately wished he had a storage treasure.
"Water." He corrected the monkey. There seemed little harm in it. It knew about his technique already, it should be able to figure out why he carried water with him.
"Oh. Less fun." The monkey pulled out his own gourd, proffering it. "Wine?"
"We're about to fight."
"And?"
"I will have to pass. Thank you for offering."
"More for me." Li Hou said, tossing back a several mouthfuls. Was the monkey an practitioner of some variant of the drunken fist? None of the rumors had said that, everyone had assumed he was drinking some sort of medicinal liquid.
"Disciples. Ready yourselves."
They were initiates no longer. Win or lose, never again would Hu Weimin answer to that word. He was a true disciple of one of the four great sects. Hu Weimin's pride had suffered a great many injuries this last year. But with that single word, it surged. He wondered what the monkey felt, if it even comprehended what an honor such recognition was.
Hu Weimin and Li Hou bowed to the referee in unison. The inner disciple nodded at them in turn, before turning to the crowd. He began a variation of the same speech each of them had heard half a dozen times before, albeit louder and more flowery, for the benefit of those few members of the audience who were not Azure Mountain daoists. Li Hou reached into a pouch at his side, and withdrew an entire quarterstaff, pulling it out end over end from a burlap bag barely two handspans wide. Hu Weimin felt envy gut roil with envy at the sight of the storage treasure.
In that moment, he felt some sympathy for the many disciples and initiates that mocked and belittled the monkey behind its back. Hu Weimin had earned his place in the Azure Mountain. But so many of the initiates he'd considered friendly acquaintances had not. The monkey wore a daoist's silk, and bore his storage treasure. It possessed a heaven-defying fleshly body, and carried a weapon allegedly given to Young Master Yang Wei by his legendary uncle.
How could any disciple who'd risen from nothing see an beast treated like a young lord, and not feel bile in his stomach?
The monkey caught his eye, as the inner disciple droned on. It smiled at him, as if they were sharing a secret. Hu Weimin had no idea what was going through its head.
Li Hou seemed... Utterly unlike the stories. The cruel beast that had shattered the sword of his first opponent, and choked its second into unconsciousness, requiring the referee to intervene, lest he become a murderer. The brutal animal that had fought allegedly met the mighty Yang Wei blow for blow, shedding blood like water and shattering stone like glass.
It was hard to believe that this was the animal that had laid low Disciple Yang Wei. He had not watched the bout that had ascended to legendary status in rumor. Debates between those who had seen the fight, and those who suspected them of embellishing their retellings, were quite vitriolic. Hu Weimin had however, met Yang Wei before. The young master was a bit of an asshole. He was seemingly constitutionally incapable of meeting someone without looking down upon them. That unfortunately meant than when everyone spoke glowingly of his martial prowess, they were probably being earnest about it. He doubted that the rumors of Yang Wei manifesting Spear Intent were true, but anyone who suggested his reputation was overblown because he lost to a monkey was clearly an idiot. Unlike Xiao Long and Shao Bingwen, Yang Wei had spent the entire year perfectly content to accept any challenge put to him.
If Yang Wei had lost to Li Hou, then Li Hou was dangerous.
Hu Weimin closed his eyes and shook his head. Monster or not, he had not come this far to unman himself with foolish fears. The Azure Mountain Sect was watching. He would show them why he was worth as much as any noble or monkey.
If only it was raining. Li Hou might be a monstrous talent. But if the sky opened up, Hu Weimin could not help but triumph. If heaven favored him with the right weather, even the mightiest of the noble scions were not beyond his power. Despite himself, Hu Weimin could not help but smile. Was that not the truth of his fate? Whether as a farmer or a daoist, he would always be waiting for rain.
The inner disciple's speech came to an end.
"Don't try to stuff your water down my throat and drown me." The monstrously talented monkey suddenly said. "Please. I've drowned twice before. I don't like it."
Hu Weimin stiffened. How in all the hells did Li Hou know about that? He'd never practiced that technique where anyone could witness it. He'd intended it to be a trump card against Shao Bingwen, whose could easily turn his blade. He didn't even know if such a thing would be effective against the monkey's stone transformation.
"Begin!" The inner disciple barked.
Hu Weimin obeyed. His blade leapt into his hand as he spun upon his heel. The rope around his waist unknotted beneath deft fingers, sending the three gourds at his back soaring into the air.
His sword came back around even as Li Hou charged, slicing through each gourd in turn. Hu Weimin's qi poured out, surging down his sword's length into the water that was even now splashing through the air. The liquid paused, then reversed its motion, a curtain of water trailing in the wake of his blade.
Hu Weimin spun round a second time. The monkey was almost upon him, teeth bared, staff high.
Hu Weimin swung, and it was not with a sword that he struck. His small jian was merely the core of his true blade, a saber made of water that was fully eight chi long, taller than any man, and wider than most. He watched with glee as the monkey's eyes widened. It tried to parry, but it was not close enough to strike at the metal of his jian. The watery portion of the blade passed right through its wooden staff, poised to split Li Hou in twain.
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Grey spread across fur and robes like ink staining water, as the damnable monkey promptly turned to stone.
Hu Weimin's blade took the statue across the chest, but he might as well have been trying to cut into the Azure Mountain itself for all the good the strike did. His Formless Blade could slice through flesh like ripe fruit, but it did not have the power to cut stone.
No matter. He'd expected that. Hu Weimin didn't bother with a second cut. He let the blade soften, pulling it back and reforming instead of wasting his energy on a pointless cut. He stepped forward into his second swing, striking the statue with the flat of his massive saber.
His Formless Blade nearly broke. The monkey statue felt as heavy as any true stone. He didn't send Li Hou flying back as he'd intended, but he did at least succeed in knocking the statue over. It crashed to the ground with an earth-shaking thud, but the monkey did not immediately revert to flesh.
Hu Weimin let the majority of his water fall to the floor of the arena. Maintaining a blade that large would deplete his qi in minutes. He couldn't cut the statue, he'd expected that. He lifted his sword to his shoulder, lining up a thrust. Water churned around it like the base of a waterfall as his qi raged, pressing in on itself. Li Hou had to come up for air eventually, he'd run him through when he did.
He slowly stepped back, reclaiming distance, as he pressed down on his qi. Not yet. Another three steps. His sword began to shake. What was the monkey waiting for?
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Orange-crest was frustrated. Not by his circumstances. Those were fine. He was not sure he liked fighting this much, but he'd promised his master he would, so there was nothing to do expect follow through. He would win them all, or he would win until he lost. Hu Weimin seemed nice, and not half as scary as Yang Wei. Orange-crest was not so foolish as to think the fight over when it'd hardly begun, but he did not dislike his chances against the man whose blade was running water.
It was very cool. But it wasn't a talent that was well suited to defeating him.
No, it was not his circumstances that were frustrating. Orange-crest was irked to no end by the fact that his powers refused to obey him. He was not drunk, but he had a nice buzz going after his earlier swallows. But he could not see in his stone form, let alone only shift part of his body, or move while stoned. Was it only the centipede wine that made that possible?
He hated that idea. One day, he would break this strange body to his will.
Fine then. If stone would not cooperate, he would do this the soft, fleshy, way. He could not see or hear, but his qi senses still worked. Hu Weimin was slowly retreating, yet gathering qi to himself. He could work with that.
He'd never tried this before, but he couldn't see why it wouldn't work.
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It'd been almost twenty seconds. What was the stupid monkey doing? Hu Weimin was tempted to just strike the statue with his Torrent Release. It wouldn't end the fight, but it should at least leave surface level damage.
No. That would be a mistake. His techniques were a poor match for the monkey, he needed to make every blow count. Every rumor said it could not move while it was fully transformed. Could not do anything, before it returned to flesh. When it had fought Yang Wei, it had only been able to move when given time to partially transform.
Hu Weimin felt like he was trying to hold back a flooding river. He'd poured too much power into the technique too quickly, assuming the monkey would transform back immediately. Was it trying to wait him out?
The statue disappeared shockingly quickly, the real monkey rolling to the side, before scrambling to charge toward him.
Hu Weimin thrust. The air screamed as a jet of water tore through it faster than any Qi Condensation cultivator could move.
The blow took the monkey in the chest, tearing clean through him to gouge a shallow gash across the stone beneath him.
Hu Weimin began to smile, awaiting the spray of crimson that would inevitably follow such a massive wound. Sometimes all it took was one strike.
And then Li Hou faded away into a cloud of fiery sparks.
An illusion? The monkey could create those while transformed? He'd assumed it was insensate. He didn't have time for a second attack before the real Li Hou was upon him.
Li Hou's staff met his true sword with a thunderous crack. The impact sent shudders up Hu Weimin's arm. He sliced out for the monkey's eyes, but it danced back, swinging low at his ankles. Hu Weimin hopped the blow, and ran. He circled around the monkey. He needed more water, his blade was almost dry and he didn't want to use his last gourd this early.
He couldn't trade parries. The monkey was supposed to be in the same realm as him, the fourth stage of Qi Condensation, but its physical strength was incredible. A product of its stone body? Or perhaps by the standards of prodigies, he was just weak in that arena. Hu Weimin threw caution to the wind, steadily advancing, every strike aiming for Li Hou's throat or eyes. He might not be able to match its power, but he could easily keep up with its speed. The monkey gave ground freely, always on the retreat, but never stepping back far enough it could not threaten his ankles or fingers with that bone-white staff.
What he wouldn't give for rain.
Finally, Hu Weimin reached a puddle. One of the ones left by the last swing of his Formless Saber. He leaned back, dipping beneath a blow that would have shattered at least one rib, and traced his sword through the water.
His next strike opened a line of red across the monkey's shoulder. Hu Weimin didn't press the attack. He took the monkey's place in their little dance, taking two quick steps backward. Their reaches were nigh equal now, but he could both strike and block with his blade. The monkey could only use its staff for offense.
Li Hou tried to press the attack, but it was futile. Hu Weimin easily parried the monkey's high thrust, slicing open its cheek with a jet of water.
"Come now, young master monkey. Surely that's not all you can do?"
It was not his finest banter, but Hu Weimin was too focused on his blade to manage cutting words. It'd gotten him with illusions the first time, but he'd be ready for that. They stood on wet stone, he'd listen for footfalls. If it turned to stone, he'd prepare another torrent and wait for noise before striking. He let the monkey step back, waiting for it to resort to a spell. Forming his full blade immediately had been a mistake, he could hold this small one far longer.
"Young master?" The monkey snickered. "I'm not even a young novice yet. Master says I'm the worst alchemist he's ever seen. But still an alchemist."
"I suppose we're all young masters from someone else's perspective." Hu Weimin did not know why he said that. Was he... Jealous of a monkey?
Li Hou straightened.
"Hmm." The monkey said, acting like it was considering his words seriously. "Don't know. Maybe?"
The monkey wasn't moving. But Hu Weimin heard the splash, even over its words.
He swung, pouring power into his blade to lengthen it.
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Orange-crest ducked under the watery blade, fading back into visibility as it split his clone in twain. Illusions let him dodge that stupid sword, but they didn't help him approach. Hu Weimin was not foolish, he was listening for footsteps.
"Rude." Orange-crest said, mouth operating on it's own as his brain considered more important matters. Maybe if his clone screamed? That would make it hard to hear him. But what if Hu Weimin could feel his water as orange-crest stepped in it? That sword was nasty. He had plenty of qi, but he couldn't afford extended exchanges. Maybe if he bound Hu Weimin with the immobilizing spell and bashed his head open? One free shot might be enough to let him win the melee.
"Really? That's your rebuttal?"
Orange-crest saw it. The path to victory. He split, one monkey circling around Hu Weimin at the edge of blade-range. The other sprinted away.
"What, running? That won't..."
Hu Weimin saw it too. It wasn't the real orange-crest that fled from him. It was the clone, whose footfalls did not splash or echo.
Orange-crest charged at Hu Weimin. He raised his sword, swinging wildly. He knew roughly where orange-crest was, but fighting someone you couldn't see seemed like a nightmarish proposition. Orange-crest easily ducked the first swing, and hopped the next. Hu Weimin knew exactly where he was, but he couldn't see if he was dodging up or down, left or right. It made the watery blade much more manageable.
"Good fight." Orange-crest said, meaning it. "But it's over."
Hu Weimin's face clouded with fury.
"How dare you make-"
Orange-crest dipped leaned to the side, sliding under the swing of the Formless Blade. His staff slammed into the underside of Hu Weimin's jaw. He shimmered back into visibility, but he had no time to consider why.
Hu Weimin's free hand slipped down to the gourd at his side, flicking the cap off it. Another water trick?
"Stop!" Orange-crest shouted, already swinging. Hu Weimin's qi ate into the spell in moments, shattering it. Binding someone in the same realm was incredibly difficult.
But orange-crest had only needed another fraction of a second to close the space between them.
His second swing took Hu Weimin in the wrist, sending his sword flying. Orange-crest waded in, choking up his grip on the staff. A left knee to the stomach. The monkey's right shoulder rose, shielding his jaw from a desperate punch. His staff-butt swung round, taking Hu Weimin in the jaw with a nasty crack. A heavy right handed punch to the face followed. The young man staggered, blood dripping from his face. There was a rhythm to the punishment he delivered now, it wasn't a fight anymore. Orange-crest caught Hu Weimin's wrist, twisted the edge of the sword away from him, squeezing as he did to force the blade from his hand. A heavy uppercut bent Hu Weimin over like a tree snapped by a storm.
Orange-crest was simply stronger than him. His fists dealt out a level of punishment that Hu Weimin could not withstand.
Hu Weimin held his feet for a moment longer, arm extended as his he still held his sword. Orange-crest stepped back and twisted, sweeping the other disciple's feet with an almost leisurely swing of his staff at near maximum extension. It should have been easy to hop, but Hu Weimin didn't have the presence of mind to react in time.
Hu Weimin fell to the stone floor of the arena, groaning, limbs sprawled.
Orange-crest stared down at him. Four disciples now stood between him and the apex of the sect. Between the acknowledgement his master craved, that his arts could raise up prodigies without equal.
The crowd roared, joy and displeasure mingling. There were too many of them now to make out words, now. Most of the crowd did not raise their voices. They did not need to, for even the loudest shouts were rendered as intelligible as whispers by the thunderous rumble of hundreds of conversations. He only caught snatches, stray words divorced from any context.
"A disgrace-"
"Why him?"
"-as nothing, before real power."
"I'll be glad, to watch him lose."
Orange-crest did not know these people. How could they hate him, envy him, judge him, so fiercely? Qi roiled in the skies above, flickers of not-light across the clear sky reflecting the passions of the daoists below. Orange-crest felt his knees shiver beneath him for a moment, trembling beneath the weight of four thousand judging eyes. Their attention was so very heavy.
He should feel joy. And he did. There was a certain satisfaction in outmaneuvering Hu Weimin. But it was tainted, and he lacked the words to say by what. Fear of what Elder Lu might do to his master? A part of him that did not rejoice in violence? Fear of the fact that for all Hu Weimin's attainments, orange-crest had crushed him without ever being in serious danger? Orange-crest was strong now. No longer a runt, not among monkeys or men, mortals or cultivators. But that meant nothing, because there were creatures that were strong beyond strength.
Weakness meant one sometimes needed to be brutal to survive. But even though he'd become strong, orange-crest did not feel that he could yet be gentle. The Monkey King had never laid low red-eyes, no matter the fury with which he'd challenged him.
The inner disciple proclaimed his victory. No, he proclaimed Li Hou's victory. The monkey who was a man, who did not truly exist.
Orange-crest turned in silence, and walked off the stage. He wanted to offer Hu Weimin a helping hand, but he did not trust himself in this strange mood. There was an anger in him he did not understand, one that threatened to make him to say or do something he could not take back.
A small part of him wondered if his illusion had failed because he'd struck a blow, or because he'd lost focus on the fleeing clone. A small wondering he would test on the morrow, to better understand the arts he cultivated. But the greater part of him wondered if he'd made the right choice in making his master's dream his own. He would never regret aiding the man who was as much pack to him as big-butt. But not all dreams were worth pursuing, and orange-crest could not shake the fear that this one was poisoned. Yet to abandon it seemed no safer. One way or another, his master was certain that Elder Lu would bring forth those tarnished scales in wrath before he allowed Li Xun to walk away from him.
In this moment, he did not feel like a monkey. But he did not feel like a human either.
"Li Hou."
Orange-crest flinched at his master's words.
"Orange-crest."
Orange-crest did not know how he knew. Or even if he knew, what passed through his disciple's mind. But he stepped forward, and wrapped his arms around his master's legs. He was tall enough to hug his master properly. To reach the lower edge of his chest, for Li Xun was somewhat tall for a human. But orange-crest did not want to hug his master properly. He wanted to cling to his legs as he'd once had, to be as safe and fearless as only the ignorant monkey he'd been knew how.
Was this fear what it meant to be human? To live among humans? If it was, he did not like it at all.
His master's hands fell upon his shoulders. Orange-crest hated that he'd seen too much. Fearful cries formed deep in his throat, but orange-crest could not afford to voice them, so he buried them in his master's robe. He hated he could no longer believe that his master and king could hold up the horizon.
Yang Shui. Xiao Wenchuan. Ren Yuhan. The Qianlong Emperor. The three living grand elders of the Azure Mountain. The Azure Mountain's Patriarch. The founders of the other three great sects. There were more he did not know. Dozens of them.
The Monkey King of Mount Yuelu could not protect his master from them. Not if they came in numbers. Orange-crest had tried to put it from his mind. To be strong for his master in the only ways that he could. Glib and fearless. But he could do so no longer, so he buried his face in his master's embrace. His shoulders shuddered as if he cried like men did. He did not. Monkeys did not do that, they wailed. Orange-crest was human enough to bury those cries, but not human enough to shed water from his eyes instead.
"Do not weep, my disciple. What did he say?" His master said quietly, unable to hide the confusion in his voice. "While I live, nothing will threaten you."
Orange-crest wished he could believe him.