Kind Young Master [Progression Fantasy - Cultivation]

The vial was empty. Only a faint trace, a stain in the glass, remained of the elixir. For the purpose of this expedition, Fushuai had been allowed a pack, a skinning knife, and an extra set of clothes.

Xiao Sheng had caught him as he left the shrine, ready to find Goshung. He'd looked him up and down as if seeing him for the first time.

"What happened to your shirt?"

Fushuai had examined himself. "Mostly swords."

After all, he had left Ashen City with nothing but the clothes on his back. His slippers were long gone, worn until they fell off his feet, and though he had managed to largely retain the integrity of his tunic, it was a close thing. Aside from the brambles and the blades, daily, hard use and washing against the rocks of a stream would spell a short life for any outfit.

Xiao Sheng had waved his hand, producing travel robes, a training tunic, and a pair of high sandals.

He was wearing the tunic now. The robes were of excellent quality, and too loose to bring into the woods.

"Think you can suck out another drop?" Goshung asked, materializing out of the shadows of a willow behind him. Fushuai didn't do him the honor of startling.

"It's finished, and so am I. But I don't feel different. There was no moment of clarity, no change in my internal alchemy. The seed was purified, but I haven't reached the next step of my advancement."

The wolf padded over. When in the wilds, Goshung preferred to go on four legs rather than two. He glared down at his pupil.

"You think you should advance for filtering a single seed? Was life so easy for you back in your palace, pretty boy? It took you ten days. I'm not certain you purified it at all; it may have gone inert due to your congested stomach acids."

No matter how the Asura insulted him, Fushuai found he could never grow angry with him. It wasn't just that the immortal beast could have killed him with a thought. There was something reassuring in his disagreeable manner. If Goshung ever became sentimental or overgenerous with praise, then he would be worried.

Nine days, not ten, but nearly a full decan exploring the ridges and crooked alleys of the mountain, and he had only killed three beasts worthy of the name. One had been at the pure body stage, without seed or core. A rock lizard. The meat had been good, and being forced to fist-fight a creature with slate for its hide had been an interesting challenge, to say the least. But it would bring him no closer to his goal.

The second beast had been a leopard. A true one, not another chimera. It had possessed a dao seed. Though that was no larger than a pinky nail, it was something. That, he had stored in another vial from Xiao Sheng.

Last had been that stalking bird. Ten feet tall, though most of that was neck, and flightless. Its beak had been nearly as long as his arm, and he was still a little disappointed that Goshung hadn't let him keep it.

"Isn't there something we can brew from powdered beak?" He'd asked. "Or leopard claws, or their livers, something?"

It was common knowledge that beast organs, apart from the seeds and cores, were useful ingredients in countless potions and poltices, but the Asura had dismissed him with a snort.

"There's not enough qi in these beasts for their parts to be valuable. You aren't some village medicine woman, and neither is your master. We are not here to teach you to soothe a farmer's cough."

"Do you know how, though?" The statement had made Fushuai curious. He did know a little medicine, but the traditional texts often contained contradictory statements about the treatment of mortal injury and illness. One scroll insisted that mercury was a poison, and another that it was an instant cure for consumption.

The wolf's ears flattened, annoyed. "If you want to heal, you were born with the wrong root. The only relief from pain you'll be giving the injured is the sweet release of death."

Fushuai had been so bothered by that answer that he hadn't spoken with his mentor again until the next day.

Now that he had finished filtering the elixir, it was time to return and brew another. They were going in the wrong direction.

"This would go faster if you sniffed out the trail for us," Fushuai said, now searching for broken stalks and paw prints in the dark.

The Asura's answer was a rumble behind him. "It would go faster if I tore the throat out of every beast on this mountain, but it would be to no purpose. I'm not here to waste my time."

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"Why are you here?" Fushuai knelt, pressing his hand to the soil and trying to listen to the forest. It wasn't exactly the same as using his spiritual sense to search out patterns in the ambient qi, but a related process. Many of the trees, as he'd always suspected, were advanced enough to be fully aware. They communicated with each other through root networks that extended beneath the entire forest.

If he was too forceful with his intent, their whispers would withdraw, or worse, their wills press back against his. It was something he'd learned to do during the many days and nights of foraging for herbs, a way of avoiding being tripped by the more active trees. Now, he was listening to the conversations among the roots, hoping to catch wind of something passing through this region that they liked even less than him.

An abomination. A chimera.

Three beasts he'd killed, and a fourth, a stag with a rack of steel antlers, they had found already dead. It had been gutted, but not eaten. Whatever had killed it had torn at its hide with claws and teeth before removing the dao seed it carried in its belly. So that is what they were hunting now.

Night turned to morning as he followed the whispers of the trees. It had come through here, this abomination, as well as its master, and the forest hated them both with a passion that seemed entirely out of character for a society of barely sentient plants.

Whoever had made the chimera was a foundation formation cultivator, but unlike Brother Chen, this one was certain to have a multitude of qi techniques at his disposal. If Fushuai was lucky, that meant the man was not meant for direct conflict, relying on his creations to kill for him. If he was unlucky, he still had Goshung to rely upon.

The Asura would save him from certain death, of that, he was sure. As sure as a coin toss.

They pressed through a wall of pines, the needles as sharp as their scent in his nostrils, and found themselves facing a rising cliff. At first, it appeared to be a dead end. But the trees were certain that the abomination's master had returned here many times. Fushuai reached out with his spiritual sense, and after long minutes of pacing and searching, felt the outline of a formation array near a tawny boulder leaning against the cliff.

A hidden passage. If it was a trap, and not mere illusion, simply walking into it would be madness. He picked up a stone and threw it at the spot next to the boulder where the qi was most concentrated.

The stone passed through without a sound. He threw another, then broke off a limb of one of the less intelligent trees nearby and poked it against the cliff. There was no resistance, only a fabricated image.

If someone was inside, he had more than announced his presence for them. That he was not yet under attack suggested the owner of this hideaway was either not present or so deep in the mountain that he had no idea what was occurring at the entrance to his lair.

"So," Goshung said. "You found it. Good boy. Now what do you do?"

"Disrupt the formation," Fushuai said instantly, and just as instantly, regretted it.

"Oh? How wise, young master. How will you go about that?"

He had no idea. Even if he had known the appropriate technique, he would not have been able to perform it. There was no real strength to his intent when he tried to project his will into the world. Spiritual senses, in a way, were a projection. But they were a projection only in the sense of a bat navigating by the sound of its own voice. He could not use it to open a door, let alone break a formation, or to kill.

"I have no idea. But I believe this is where the beast resides, or its master, or both. Should I prepare an ambush for when one of them returns?"

He felt the heat of the demon-wolf's disapproval on the back of his new tunic and hoped it didn't burn a hole. It was unlikely that Xiao Sheng was in the habit of carrying unlimited replacement outfits in his storage rings, at least not in Fushuai's size.

"Why are you asking me?" Goshung said.

He sighed. "Apologies, mighty Asura. I know you are present to observe only. Forgive this wayward pupil his foolishness. He is like a babe in the woods, mouth open, hoping for his mother's teat."

"You…" Goshung paused, perhaps considering whether his pupil's tone called for punishment. "Yes," he said at last, "that is exactly what you are. Self-reflection is a stepping stone toward the shore of enlightenment. Did you gain special insight while I was at rest?"

It was difficult to be sure whether the immortal devil was playing along or if he hadn't realized he was being teased. Fushuai decided not to push his luck.

"No special insight. I will make the decision for myself, for better or for worse."

There was no guessing how long he would have to wait outside the hidden cave before someone or something came out or in. If it were empty, this would be an excellent opportunity to learn about the man who was crafting the chimeras. Trespassing on a cultivator's private space, however, could be a deadly proposition.

He swept the wall again with his spiritual sense and thought he had a good idea of the extent of the array protecting it. It reminded him of Meili, whose dream root gave her energy a particular flavor. Of course, his perception of it at the time had been vague at best. But the impression remained. The exact nature of the formation was beyond him, and he could not see the actual array. Still, illusion did seem to be its primary component.

Fushuai thrust his hand through the wall that was not a wall, and felt a faint electricity crawling along his skin.

"You are truly a genius," Goshung said. "There is no need for me here anymore. Your training is complete."

Fushuai smiled to himself. "My skills are limited. My foolishness is boundless."

He stepped through the barrier.

The interior was larger than he expected. The stone had been cut smooth and the ceiling reinforced with cedar beams, the air dryer than outside, and musty.

Charcoal diagrams and scratched symbols adorned the walls, many half-erased or overwritten, as though the cultivator had been unsure which version of his own theory to believe. Crude shelves lined the chamber, filled with jars of resin, preserved organs, cracked open geodes, and sealed pots marked with paper scripts.

In the center, there was a worktable of carved stone stained with old blood and other fluids. Above it hung a lattice of bones wired together with hair or sinew, some bleached, some still sheathed in drying flesh. It turned slowly, catching what little light there was from a single lantern resting on the table. Rather than oil and a wick, a gemstone glowed in its interior.

To one side, there was a sleeping mat and a thick stack of worn books, some hand-copied, others clearly stolen from better libraries. A few bore the sigils he didn't recognize. Others had no title at all, only mold and dust.

Pinned to the far wall was a diagram of a chimera not yet made. Its form was elegant, almost beautiful. A stag's body, a crane's wings, a serpent's neck, and something else beneath its skin, visible only as a faint coiling shadow.

Beside it, a message was inscribed in spidery ink.

The dream of hunger is no dream.

There was a smell, faint but clinging: copper, wet fur, and perhaps ginseng. Goshung had not entered behind him, and there were no further alcoves or tunnels where the rogue might be lying in wait. Alone, he spent long moments in contemplation of the diagram.

It was wrong. A crime against the heavens, to be sure, violating the patterns of their creation this way. Also, though the design itself was lacking. What had at first appeared elegant now seemed to him…inadequate. Not that he would ever craft a chimera himself, the very thought was abhorrent. But if he were to do such a thing, it would not look like this.

Something prickled at his neck, a shift in the ambient qi. He spun, and a section of the cave wall detached, opening dark eyes. It had the form of a hound, though instead of fur, the creature was covered in scales of shifting colors that had allowed it to camouflage itself against the stone.

It lunged.