Between Beast And Buddha: A Drunken Monkey's Journey to Immortality

Orange-crest stood over the prone form of Jiang Yan.

The disciple was wheezing quietly where he lay, but he seemed to be breathing, and blood had stopped dribbling out from the corner of his mouth. Everyone had insisted on explaining the rules of the match to orange-crest. Yan Delun. His master. The inner disciple managing the bout.

But nobody had actually told him what he was supposed to do when he won. Walk away? Help Jiang Yan up? Step on him? He didn't like the disciple. But he didn't dislike him either. Yet the disciple probably disliked him now. Orange-crest did not know whether it would be more prudent to extend the helping hand or the punishing foot.

"You have made yourself an enemy this day." Jiang Yan said quietly, every word clearly a great labor.

"No. I made myself a victor." Orange-crest corrected. "You made yourself an enemy."

The man looked like he wished to say more, but the monkey turned away. He'd learned much of the power of words during his year upon the Azure Mountain. How they could share secrets, or make friends of strangers. But he was coming to see their limitations too. He could tell a man the truth, but could not make him hear it. He was coming to believe that speaking was not the greatest secret of language. That honor instead went to listening.

Orange-crest bent down and retrieved his staff. One end was decorated with half a dozen deep gouges, like a giant teething-stick. Both the tips were scuffed, from his blocks and throw. Once, wood had seemed such a durable thing to him. Little different from stone in its permanence. He'd so dearly coveted these staves that the sect made by the dozen. Planned to steal the first one Disciple Chang had handed him, before he'd been distracted by Yang Wei. Now here he was, wondering if the wood would even survive a second bout. He'd need a better weapon soon. He didn't like the metal staves Daoist Enduring Oath had shown him. Even with his newfound strength, they felt... Slow. But he might be forced to take one up soon all the same.

"Outer Disciple Jiang Yan is incapable of continuing. Outer Disciple Li Hou is victorious." The inner disciple refereeing the match droned on, but orange-crest tuned him out. It was done. But he felt no joy looking down at his defeated opponent.

He'd thought victory would taste sweeter. Would he feel better if the fight had been harder, demanding all his strength and skill? Or if he'd crushed Jiang Tan effortlessly? If the stakes were dearer, or lesser? These were stupid thoughts. There were already too many vicious things in this world that preyed on innocent monkeys. His mind had no reason to seek to number among them. He shouldn't feel conflicted about winning. So he decided to stop doing that.

Orange-crest shook his head, shaking out the bad thoughts. His fur responded less than it used to. He still wasn't used to its new stiffness, the way it didn't shift around as much in response to wind or movement. It was nice for deflecting swords, but very unfortunate when he got itchy. He now simply had to scratch, just shaking the itch out almost never worked anymore. And wearing a robe only made the problem worse. He had the worst itch on the left side of his lower back, where the belt was rubbing him wrong.

But Li Xun would never let him hear the end of it if he stripped it all off in front of a hundred disciples. Apparently taking your clothes off in front of someone was far worse than showing up naked in the first place. More silly human rules.

So instead he made his way up into the stands. It was usually easy to find his master. Just look for wherever the big clump of humans wasn't.

Disciples chattered like monkeys as he passed them, projecting their voices to fill the empty space around them. Orange-crest wondered if the massive rows of stone seats would be filled for the final matches. Were there even enough humans in the empire for that?

"Come on, there's nothing technical about his victory. Inelegant, certainly, but it was fairly won."

"Fairly? Jiang Yan all but handed him his sword!"

"Could you have done any better in the third stage? That his sword flies at all is not unimpressive. It clearly was no true flying sword for the monkey to shatter it so easily. No magical treasure or vessel of a sword spirit. That means his qi alone was manipulating it."

"And yet, he piloted it like a drunken sailor."

"It's a third stage duel, what do you expect, neither of them to show openings you could drive a dharmaboat through? You are simply salty because you lost money on it."

"He got lucky! What sort of plan is 'grab the sword cultivators sword?'"

"A good one apparently, if the sword cultivator is weak enough."

"Bah!"

Orange-crest saw his master. It took him several seconds to find him, because for once he wasn't alone. Yang Wei, his presence the monkey could understand. He still had no real idea why the prideful disciple liked him, but he'd accepted that he did. He must just be clear enough of eye to recognize that orange-crest was a most excellent monkey. But a stranger? He must be part of Yang Wei's pack. Orange-crest was pretty sure winter would come and vanish again before his master made a friend without his assistance.

"Li Hou! I knew you would be victorious." His master greeted.

"Oh. That is good." Orange-crest smiled at his master the way men did, teeth out as if they were angry. "I thought so. But I wasn't sure. Good that one of us knew. You could have told me."

"Li Hou." His master sighed, slightly exasperated.

"Li Hou." Yang Wei echoed in a very different tone. Greeting, but also anticipation.

"That smile is creepy." The stranger said, meeting orange-crest's eyes.

"Ignore Li Shuwen." Yang Wei added.

Orange-crest snickered, then took at seat at the end of the row, to Li Shuwen's left, rather than one adjacent to his master. Li Xun knew him, and would not feel snubbed.

"Don't worry." He told the new disciple, his tone low and conspiratorial. "He tells people to ignore me too. We can be ignored together."

This Li Shuwen could not be too bad if his master had not yet driven him off. His master was very good at driving off irritating humans.

"I see why you like this one." Li Shuwen said to Yang Wei. "He's as impudent and ill-mannered as me."

Yang Wei's brow furrowed.

"You have perhaps the single most encyclopedic understanding of etiquette I've ever seen in a member of our generation. You regularly quote passages from The Rites of Xiao at me."

"Exactly. One needs to know the rules that define proper conduct in order to break them most effectively."

Orange-crest thought about that.

"Very wise." The monkey agreed. "I must learn better manners. Should read that book."

Daoist Scouring Medicine sighed.

"Really? That's what convinces you? I've had that in your reading pile since before the incident and you've never touched it."

Li Shuwen rose, and bowed to the three of them in turn.

"Please excuse me, for I have winnings to go collect."

"My winnings." Daoist Scouring Medicine added.

Li Shuwen smiled.

"Some of my own as well. I could hardly pass up such a sure wager."

Yang Wei frowned, but said nothing as he departed. Orange-crest slid over next to him. Then he realized there was a better seat to be had. So he stepped around Yang Wei's knees and forced his way into the space between him and Li Xun.

"Winnings?"

"I placed a small wager on your match."

"I cannot believe that there is such a lively market in gambling on these matches." Yang Wei said, still frowning. "It is disappointing. If an aspiring daoist must wager, they should at least bet on their own strength."

The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

Orange-crest was a little confused.

"But... Why?"

"As much as we like to pretend otherwise, daoists are not immortals, untouched by the dust of mortal affairs." His master explained. "We have all the same vices as mortal men, writ far larger for our earthshaking might."

"No, the other why." He already knew humans were prideful, covetous, and easily angered.

As Li Xun launched into an explanation of how organized gambling worked, it was orange-crest's turn to furrow his brows. He understood well the concept of gambling. It was great. All the heart-pounding fun of real danger with none of the risk of dying. But his companions appeared to be implying that disciples were gambling on other disciple's matches. Why would someone do something so stupid as wager upon an event they could not influence the outcome of? How were you supposed to win if you didn't do your best to rig the outcome?

To rely on chance? Madness. It was bad enough losing spirit stones because you were weak. Why lose them because you were unlucky? Not that his master was wrong for wagering upon him. It was the other disciples who had bet that were foolish.

Orange-crest was with Yang Wei on this one. Yet, his master looked a little disappointed in him for some reason. Orange-crest felt a little bad about that, but he didn't change his mind just because people looked disapprovingly at him.

"Look there, a match worth watching!"

Orange-crest squinted. The arena Yang Wei pointed to was on the opposite edge of the peak, on the other side of the massive central arena that lay empty. He could barely make out two figures, one in blue, the other wearing black and red.

"The Xiao Clan favor fire and lightning." Yang Wei explained as the distant disciples circled each other. "Their arts grant them an unmatched potential for destruction, but their defenses are often lacking in comparison. I believe that's Xiao Shulan, Xiao Long's cousin. It is difficult to tell at such distance. I believe both are now in the fifth stage of Qi Condensation, as I am."

The disciple in blue wielded a sword, or a saber, orange-crest couldn't tell at this distance. He charged forward, blade held low at his side. The Xiao disciple barely reacted, waiting for him to approach.

"It is. But this will be no fight at all." Daoist Scouring Medicine said contemptuously. "It is not without reason only a single elder, and no guests, are in attendance today. There will be no good matches on the first day, the inner disciples make sure of it. Xiao Shulan will finish him in a single move."

"His form is good." Yang Wei disagreed. "He's approaching low, ready to leap in any direction. He'll dodge her first blow."

"A pity you do not care to put your money where your mouth is."

Orange-crest ignored the pair as they bickered, straining his eyes to get a better look at the fight.

It was over in an instant.

The monkey blinked, trying to clear the afterimages of the flash from his eyes. Slowly, his mind made sense of what he'd seen. Xiao Shulan had not moved from where she stood. The disciple's saber had risen in a vicious arc, set to open the woman's flesh from hip to throat. Then there had been a brilliant flash, a white light so bright that even in the stands, orange-crest's eyes had felt seared. He'd nearly missed the massive plume of flame that had arisen after the flash. A palm strike? Or a spell?

The disciple with the saber lay unmoving, a smoldering patch of black covering half his torso. Orange-crest hoped it was only his robes.

One move.

"Too aggressive." Yang Wei said, frowning. "He should not have tried to close before she released her spell."

Daoist Scouring Medicine smiled indulgently at him.

"If he was that skilled, he would not have been paired with Xiao Shulan in his first match."

Yang Wei turned to orange-crest.

"Do you think you could stand against her?"

Orange-crest stared back at the young man. There was a hunger in his eyes. A craving for battle, like the rage that oft came over red-eyes. Yang Wei controlled it better than orange-crest's vicious brother, but his own fury was no less evident, to one who knew what to look for. He wanted orange-crest to say yes. He wanted to see that same hunger reflected back at him in the monkey's own eyes.

"Mmmmm." Orange-crest hummed. "Maybe. Depends on her. On me. If fur burns. If she falls for tricks. Must run around fire. Not get burned. Maybe throw rocks?"

It did not show on Yang Wei's face, but orange-crest could tell he did not like that answer. That was good. He liked Yang Wei. He liked that Yang Wei seemed to like him. But he was still an enemy. An obstacle to be surmounted. He didn't want Yang Wei to get too hungry for the battle between them.

Big-butt and red-eyes oft fought with each other. They were the mightiest of the pack, no other monkeys on the mountain were truly a match for either of them. The king was too mighty, the others all too weak. Usually, big-butt won. He was far larger, and a fair bit stronger. When red-eyes did win, it was usually because he wanted it more. Because circumstances had aligned to transform his ever-present pride and fury into something stronger and more enduring than mere rage.

Yang Wei did not have the same look as red-eyes. He lacked the ancient monkey's bloodlust and cruelty. But there was a similarity between them that orange-crest couldn't quite shake. Yang Wei had that same hunger that had once led red-eyes to challenge the Monkey King, to stand against the greatest of their kind even though victory was impossible. Perhaps because it was impossible.

Orange-crest didn't need Yang Wei getting that excited. Not until it was too late for that battle-hunger to make a difference.

"I see. My own match approaches. Excuse me, Daoist Scouring Medicine, Li Hou."

Yang Wei took up his spear and left. Orange-crest let out a sigh of relief. That human was too much.

"He'll be a dangerous foe." His master noted.

"Yes."

"The Xiao scions may be worse. Thrown rocks will do nothing. Both of them will have talismans to deflect physical assaults. You'll need to use your bodily cultivation to breach them."

"Yes."

Li Xun sighed.

"I'll stop repeating myself. We'll plan for those foes together, when we know which of them you will face."

Orange-crest laughed. A single big chortle. Then he gave his master a proper monkey-smile. Happy eyes, an open mouth with no teeth.

His master did not try to make the face back. It looked rather silly on a human. But he did grin as men did.

They watched the matches in companionable silence for a time. His master pointed out the disciples he should be wary of, the ones that would make it to the main stage. Shao Bingwen, who laughed in the face of blades. His skin was as durable as orange-crest's own, and his fists just as heavy, clad in metal gauntlets. Hu Weimin, who wielded water like a lash, his strikes flowing right past his opponent's ineffectual defenses. Li Shuwen returned, handing his master a small bag that smelled of spirit stones, before leaving again.

And then Yang Wei took the stage.

Orange-crest watched with interest as he bowed to his opponent, a brawny disciple with a saber. Then as Yang Wei took up a stance, his opponent bowed a second time. Yang Wei rushed over and caught his hands, and the two of them spoke with the inner disciple.

Daoist Scouring Medicine snorted.

"He's convincing him not to surrender before the match begins. That boy is so earnest, in his own twisted way, that it's almost painful to watch."

"You know him?"

"A little. I told you he came to visit after your accident? I gave him a few pointers, and he gifted me a few herbs I thought might be useful for your treatment."

"Hmm."

Blades clashed, qi-winds whipping up dust around the dueling disciples. Yang Wei's spear was like a serpent, controlling the space around him with the mere threat of its vicious bite. He picked the brawny disciple apart without ever drawing a drop of blood. Every flick of his wrist send the blade wide, leaving the disciple wide open to counters that never came.

Orange-crest struggled to see how Yang Wei had grown. What new skills he had mastered. His opponent wasn't good enough to force him to show his hand. All orange-crest noticed was that no matter how powerful a blow Yang Wei blocked, his slippers did not slip even a fraction of a chi. Suspiciously good footing.

And then Yang Wei's spear gently kissed the brawny disciple's throat, and it was over.

"Let us return home. There's little to be learned today, none of the opponents that may trouble you later will be pressed enough to show their true capabilities."

"Yes." Orange-crest agreed. He would know who he would face tomorrow soon enough.

"Here, some of these are yours."

His master handed him three spirit stones. Orange-crest looked up at him, inquiring.

"I will keep betting so long as you keep winning. But money exists to be spent. I'm sure you'll make good use of these to improve your chances."

"Mm." Orange-crest felt like he should be more talkative. But today was not even half over, and already it had been a lot. His mind was busy with thoughts of cultivation and stratagems.

The fourth stage of Qi Condensation. The phantom palm. A staff of iron. Pills, or poisons. Battle-wines. More control of his stone transformation. If only he had more time to pursue all the horizons he could see. He would have more time between the later matches, but still far too little. Never more than a week between rounds.

Man and monkey walked in silence for a time.

"They will seek to use you, if you continue winning." His master said suddenly.

"They?"

"Not every disciple will wear their feelings upon their face as Yang Wei does. Li Shuwen has been transparent in his attempts to curry favor amongst the two of us, yet no less effective for it. If you reach the main stage, there will be no shortage of invitations directed at you. Pleasant words and a friendly face will be no guide as to who you can trust."

Orange-crest clicked his tongue. Finally, a concern he knew how to deal with.

"Never trusted nice words. True-tongue doesn't have those. I know who is pack, and who is predator."

"It is never quite that simple with humans Li Hou. I am rather curious about this true tongue you speak of. I would like to learn it, after the tournament."

"Why wait? Is easy. You know laugh?"

"Yes?"

"That is sound for funny. For joy and strange and good joke. You already know many laughs."

Orange-crest bent over, and pulled up a clump of grass.

"What this?"

"A clod of grass."

"No-no." Orange-crest insisted, waving the grass in his brother's face. "Forget what you call it. Tell me what it is."

"That is not helpful advice."

"Just do it! Don't think, only speak!"

It was not a very productive lesson. Li Xun learned only a single sound in the true tongue. It was 'stop doing that', which was one every-monkey figured out before their second winter. His brother was not as talented with languages as orange-crest was apparently.

As the familiar sight of his master's warm home rose up before them, orange-crest realized something. He did not have one home anymore. He had two.

He would leave the Azure Mountain in less than a season. He might never return. But the home he'd found was not a place. Not a mountain or a hearth or a workshop or a pantry. His fingers tightened around the chipped staff his master had given him. He felt qi like a web, stretching out into distance beyond perception. A power like memory, impossible to touch, yet more precious than anything hands could grasp.

Everything around him felt connected. The staff in his hand. The mountain beneath his feet. His master's gentle hand on his shoulder. Like he was where he was meant to be. It made him wonder, if he was meant to be here, where was he meant to go? And who decided such things?

"Go, cultivate. Make use of those stones" Daoist Scouring Medicine commanded, seeing something in his face. "I will be here when you return."