Kind Young Master [Progression Fantasy - Cultivation]

Tiger Month (January)

The wind carried a fresh scent through the columns of the shrine, pine free of thaw, and hints of a few early blooms. Though the upper slopes of the Lonely Mountain, those near the clouds, were draped with snow, and Fushuai could only imagine the condition of the peak that reached above, spring had arrived in their little fold. His shoulders were sore from the pounding of the waterfall the evening before, but he had otherwise suffered no ill effects.

His spiritual awareness was still inconsistent; it came and went as it pleased when he was not giving it his focus, but when he bent his will to the task of control, it was his to command. His root, a spear of night, was always within him. Now that he had felt it clearly, he wondered how he had ever failed to see it. Unignorable, a thread of one of the two forces that composed the universe. More fundamental than fire, more expansive than any ocean, Yin itself.

He was still coming to terms with its existence.

And now his master was leaving.

The unassuming old monster, still in his dusty robes, spared a last reverent gesture for the headless god that dwelled in the shrine before his sandals could be heard clopping down the steps. Fushuai waited there with his head bowed, while Mah Goshung stood a ways off, picking at his teeth with his pinky claw.

"There's no need for this oppressive sobriety," Xiao Sheng said lightly. "Lift your face, pupil."

Fushuai did. "I have only just discovered my spiritual sense, I am in need of your guidance now more than ever."

"Hardly," Xiao Sheng scoffed. "You managed the Void Stirring well enough, now you need weeks, if not months of practice to perfect it and reach the next step on your road. There is no place for me in that. I would drive myself mad trying to correct you, and I will likely return before you are in need of a new method."

Void Stirring was a new cycling technique, new to Fushuai, that he had been shown once during the night and asked to replicate this morning. Using his newborn perception, he had been able to observe what Xiao Sheng was doing as he cycled. His master had lifted a tiny portion of his spiritual veil, allowing Fushuai to watch the movement of his qi. Whatever he was doing when he tried to mimic the technique, he was sure he'd made a clumsy mockery of the original, but it seemed to function as intended. It was easier for him to guide the qi through his meridians now, and to coax it up from his spiritual roots.

He could not draw energy from the aura around him yet, completely reliant on what his body produced naturally. It was the difference between a man carrying a candle and another with an entire forest of dry lumber to burn.

"Where are you going?" He hadn't fully accepted it yet. His master had woken him before sunrise with an announcement that he would be traveling, then demanded Fushuai replicate the technique.

"To visit old friends," Xiao said, which was as good as saying it was none of his disciple's business where he went or what he did while he was there. "Now, before I leave you…"

His master swept out his hand and summoned objects from his storage rings. Cooking supplies: a tripod, a wok, and a pot; a scoop, a chopping knife, and a pair of chopsticks. That was all.

"I expect you to have a new recipe for me when I return," he said. "Hunger and necessity are the foremost teachers; they shame an old man like me."

"I will do my best," Fushuai bowed deeply. He thought it unlikely that he would be able to manage much other than a salad of wild herbs without the supplies his master usually provided for meals. There was no rice or flour to be had in these mountains, nor a chest of spices to draw from. Still, if he had to survive on roots and bark, he could. Goshung was a troublesome tutor, but he had taught him much.

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"Another thing," Xiao Sheng tapped his shoulder. "I'm never sure how much you managed to learn from your family's scrolls, so forgive me if I lecture you on what you already know. A rare root is, of course, a blessing, but it comes with troubles unique to its kind. In later stages, you will find it easier to devour all manner of qi aspects, but as weak as you are now, your root is a picky eater. That is why you've had such difficulty cycling."

Fushuai wasn't surprised that his heavenly root brought hurdles of its own; he could only be so fortunate. Though now that he knew of its existence, he had to wonder.

"Did you choose me because of my spiritual root?"

Xiao Sheng gave a gentle smile, which was all the answer he would receive.

"What can I do to find qi with the proper aspect?"

"Now that is the correct question," his master motioned to the shrine and the ruined statue at its center. "By pure chance, we have stumbled upon an ideal spot. An ancient ruin overseen by a dead deity is a natural draw for Yin energy. To make the best use of it, you will have to develop your awareness further. Once you do, the method should become obvious. This place has helped you generate your bodily qi, and once you learn to use the aura around you, it will be easy to find what you need.

"Yin is strongest when the moon is full and its light shines unobstructed. Cold will be your favorite friend, and still waters, and even death. Women, as well, to some extent, though you won't come across any here. It is, after all, the Lonely Mountain."

"A thousand thanks." Fushuai bowed yet again. He was not concerned with loneliness, as he had no particular interest in women. Well, he did, but wooing women had always seemed to be a distraction from more important duties. Not that many courtly beauties had expressed interest in him after his position in the clan fell to that of a near pariah. He pushed the thought away. "I am in your debt."

His master tsked. "Enough of that. And what did Goshung tell you about bowing? I chose you for a purpose. None of this is for your benefit, and therefore, nothing I do that happens to benefit you implies a debt. Now, if there are no more questions, I am already several years late."

"Several years?" Fushuai's question met Xiao Sheng's back. The elder was already walking away, and though each step he took seemed easy and slow, they carried him impossibly far. In a breath, he was gone.

Mah Goshung ambled over, having finally rid himself of whatever had been lodged in his fangs.

Fushuai stared at the gap in the trees where his master had been before he disappeared. "When will I learn to walk like that?"

"The Ten Li Step?" The Asura clapped him on the shoulder with enough force to buckle his knees. "Maybe you will die before you do. Why are you spouting questions? Do you think because your master is gone, you will be able to slack off?"

"You aren't going with him?" Fushuai had dared to hope.

"I go where I please. Do you think I am a leashed dog?" There was no malice there, or threat. Actual anger from him was unmistakable. "There is still much fun for us to have together. I'll be here and there on some business of my own, I can't invest all my time in swaddling a whelp like you. But when the Living Blade asks a favor, you grant it. So you will continue to receive my instruction."

"I am overjoyed at the prospect."

"As you should be," the gleam in the Asura's eyes was edging toward dangerous. He knew sarcasm when he heard it.

"Truly." Fushuai corrected himself. "I am grateful. You have already helped me more than a hundred scrolls would have."

"More than a thousand, or any number." Those fangs flashed, and an ember glowed from deep in his throat. "Scrolls are good for little besides kindling."

They spent the rest of the morning in the sparring glen. Fushuai was no stronger than he had been the day before, but he found that not only could he sense the Asura's intent, he could do so easily. After he managed to avoid a few of his counters, the devil grunted with something akin to approval.

"Good. You aren't completely blind. I'll make this more of a game."

And just like that, Fushuai's newfound advantage was gone. His mentor wasn't actually trying to hit him, not really. He was attacking with a level of speed and power calculated to be at the edge of what his pupil could handle. The lesson was using spiritual sense to predict an opponent's movement. To that end, the Asura began varying the intensity of the threads of aura he allowed to slip out, making some of his attacks obvious, others nearly unguessable, and some pure feints.

Fushuai finished their exercise with more bruises than ever, though at least no new bones had been broken that day.

"Into the woods with you," Goshung said. "Find what you want to feed yourself tonight, I won't be here."

"So you are going after all?" Fushuai paused even as he had been about to take his leave. His time alone in the forest had become routine, but his master and his mentor had always been at the shrine in the evenings when he returned.

"I may be back tomorrow or the day after, or I may not. A hunt takes what time it takes."

There hadn't been any mysterious jerky for the past few days. Fushuai stopped himself from asking whether the Asura was going to pursue another heavenly dragon-horse. Whatever Mah Goshung got up to was his own concern, and it was not his place to question it.

"I look forward to your return."

"Hah." The Asura grinned. "Like hells you do. Good luck, little whelp. The shrine is safe enough, but with me gone, the beasts of the mountain might find their courage and come out to play."

A moment later, the devil-man had become a wolf, and his sleek black form vanished as surely as Xiao Sheng had hours before, leaving Fushuai alone.

"Beasts?"